Failed Version of Damaged Goods
by DramaQueen50
Summary: For those of you who preferred this version to the revised one, I'm putting it back up. Please understand that it will not go further than chapter six, as I cannot get the plot to line up with the characters correctly. If you want to read the revised version, it is called "Damaged Goods" and you can find it through my profile, or a basic browse/search! Big thanks to my followers!
1. Chapter 1

_Summary: Harry was sentenced to die, forced to fall through the Veil just as his godfather had. He didn't care; he accepted the fact, and looked forward to seeing his parents and godparents once more. But he didn't appear to have died as he should have; in fact, Harry would go so far as to say he had never felt as alive as he did now. Maybe it was the man with shield, or maybe it was the guy in the gold and red suit, Harry didn't know. All he knew was he was alive; for the first time in his life, Harry felt _alive_._

Warnings: Slash, extensive mentions of torture and death, triad relationships, and swearing. If you don't know, slash is sexual relationships between two men or two women. I am using the male slash. This story is rated M for future references to graphic, violent scenes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or Avengers, or The Marvel Universe.

**_Damaged Goods: Chapter One_**

Green light flooded Harry's vision as an oppressive weight settled over his chest. The young man struggled to breathe as he flew through the air. Had he not seen the curse coming, Harry would have thought someone had cast a simple time-slowing charm on him during the battle.

As it was, the wizard could see the blood draining from Voldemort's face, the already pale skin turning a ghostly white. The Aurors surrounding the room were shouting to each other, though Harry was unable to decipher their words. In fact, he couldn't hear anything, as a strong, howling wind was flooding his ear drums. His long, shoulder length hair was fluttering in an invisible gust of air, the raven strands tickling his scarred face.

Harry sighed as he closed his eyes, tipping his head back. Was this what it felt like to die? If so, the wizard had decided he quite liked the sensation, the knowledge that he was free; free from the prophecy, free from the fame, free from the betrayals and pain that had plagued his existence.

A single, joyous tear escaped the young man's eye as he fell, floating into an ancient artifact with all the grace of a falling angel.

**xXx**

Steve leaned heavily on his elbows with his head resting in his hands as he quietly listened to the rest of the team discuss their latest mission.

"What was the point of him using the Tesseract? I mean, he was unconscious by the time we got there. It doesn't make sense, why activate a dangerous source of power, only to pass out upon arrival in the land you plan to conquer?" Clint grumbled, his hands fiddling with the detached tip of an arrow as he glanced around at the faces of his team members. Natasha raised one, elegantly shaped eyebrow as her eyes honed in on Clint's stress habit with laser like vision. Grabbing her lover's hand, she gently rubbed a thumb over the back of it, soothing the tense muscles in that single motion. Clint flashed the assassin a thankful smile, before he turned his attention back to the discussion. Nobody bothered to comment as his fingers intertwined with hers; it was commonplace these days.

"Maybe something went wrong with the transportation. He didn't have any kind of army, and you'd have to be fucking blind not to see his injuries. It's a miracle that kid is still alive." Bruce ground out, his usually calm, relaxed attitude replaced by an angered, irate one to match his green tinged eyes. Just the thought of the young man's injuries put him in a horrid mood.

"I don't think he was here to attack. Something's wrong; his actions aren't adding up. The guy looked like something out of the _Walking Dead_, there's no way he was prepared for this adventure of his." Tony growled in frustration, tapping his fingers on the cool metal of the tabletop in agitation.

"The Tesseract cannot be activated without a purpose—the mortal could not have used it if he did not know what he wanted it to do. The Tesseract is powerful, yes, but without instructions and a will strong enough to power those instructions, it is essentially useless." Thor pointed out, his deep, accented voice ringing in the room as he spoke. Silence descended upon the group and Steve found himself rubbing his eyes. The image of the bloodied, injured newcomer kept focusing behind his eyelids each time he closed them. They had found him in an abandoned warehouse near the bay, unconscious in a pool of his own blood. Energy levels from the Tesseract had been radiating from his body in a volatile tidal wave of power. It had expanded and retracted to a rhythm the team could not understand, attracting attention for miles around. It was a virtual bowl of honey for flies.

Even during times of war, Steve had never seen damage to one person quite that extensive before— not even on torture victims. That... that _child_—for that's what he was to Steve's rather large age—had been to hell and back more times than any person should ever be forced to. Steve jolted abruptly as Natasha's smooth voice broke his train of thought.

"You've been pretty quiet since we got back Steve. Anything you'd like to share with the team?" She asked gently, her hand still clasped with Clint's. Steve dropped his palms to the table as he sighed heavily, only to raise them again to run his fingers through his hair. He had hoped the gesture could help him formulate an answer; it hadn't.

"Honestly," he started before pausing to gather his thoughts. "Honestly, I think there is third party at play here. That kid has more injuries than torture victims from Vietnam or WW2; that's a hell of a lot of injuries. I don't think he tried to use the Tesseract—I think someone else sent him, an enemy, possibly. Whatever happened, that guy has been through more hardships than your oldest, toughest war veteran, and right now, he needs rest and support—not interrogations, not skepticism, and definitely not apathy to his situation. Have some sympathy for the boy." The room had gone silent during Steve's speech. Throughout his rant, Steve's team members' faces had slowly morphed into expressions of pity, consideration, and mortification as the Avengers all realized how little empathy they had shown the brutally injured young man. They had all been focused on the Tesseract, the very thought of the powerful artifact bringing memories of Loki abusing its power rising to the front of their minds to cloud their thoughts. Nobody had considered the pain the boy must have been in, not to mention all the pain he must have gone through already.

"Steve is right." A rough, gravelly voice agreed. Every head swiveled to inspect the newcomer, and nearly as one, each Avenger raised an incredulous eyebrow. Director Nick Fury had to resist the urge to snort at the sight of their incredulity. He didn't consider _every_ odd arrival to the country a threat— just 90% of them. Striding over to a chair, Fury settled in before addressing his team.

"Despite the boy's rather _controversial_ methods of transportation, he is no threat to us as of the moment, as he has just slipped into a coma. With his extensive injuries, the surgeons said it would be a miracle if he ever came out of it. In fact, it's a miracle he's alive at all. The amount of blood loss he has sustained—combined with the effects of what appears to be a _very_ recent heart attack—should have killed him. As it is, the kid stands little chance of surviving through the night. That does not, however, mean we will stop treating him. He deserves a chance at life until evidence says otherwise." Fury nodded slightly to Steve as he watched the man's clenched fists loosen when he guaranteed the young man would be given medical attention. Nick had his suspicions, but the strict director would not act unless Steve gave him a damn good reason to.

Fury continued to inform his team of their strategy regarding the newcomer. They had no idea how long the man would be out—be if for the next few days or possibly weeks— and the director wanted the team prepared for any scenario. Steve, however, was ignoring his strict commander in favor of focusing on his thoughts. They were slowly revolving solely on the image of the man they had found in the warehouse. He would be visiting the new arrival soon, but just to check on him of course.

**xXx**

The injured man was completely lost in a haze of gray. The mist-like substance seemed to surround him, clinging to his clothing, his skin, to his very essence. Looking around with interest, the wizard's sharp, emerald green eyes could spot no sign of civilization. Shrugging his shoulders, he began to walk—he had nothing better to do, and it wasn't like he had a way out of this gray place. After what seemed like hours of meandering around, Harry finally settled himself in the mist, giving up on any hopes of finding _anything_ in this world of gray. His thoughts wandered, flitting from memory to memory as he tried to figure out what had landed him in this…mist.

_Right, I had been falling Voldemort had hit me with that stupid curse **again**, and it had thrown me backwards_ Harry smirked as the image of the snake-faced bastard in utter shock flooded his mind. Voldemort's thin lips had parted as his jaw dropped, the man's once brilliant mind unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Harry Potter had blinked and smiled as he flew through the air from the force of the killing curse. The memory of Voldemort's fury as his skin abruptly caught flame would follow Harry to his grave.

The wizard scowled as he ran a hand through the thick, cloying mist around him.

"Not to the grave, rather this little hell hole instead." Sighing in exasperation, Harry raked a hand through his shaggy hair as he pondered over his situation. Glancing about his surroundings as though hoping they had changed, Harry slowly chewed his lip. It certainly wasn't anything like he had been expecting. The wizard sighed as he imagined soft, vibrant green fields dotted with wildflowers dancing in a gentle summer breeze. He had been hoping for the smell of the sea tinting the air, but none of that mattered, as he had definitely expected the sight of his parents playing with a shaggy black dog while Remus read a large tome off to the side. Harry had been excited to see the werewolf's honey colored eyes sparkling with suppressed amusement. Gray mist seemed a little...anticlimactic.

_Why would anyone willingly jump into death's arms?_ Harry sure as hell didn't want to live another life at the hands of clingy, dull gray mist! At the very least— Harry sighed as he pushed himself to his feet, beginning his endless trek once more. It would do the man no good to dwell on imaginings and wishes, so he chose to walk instead, stumbling forward on exhausted limbs. Moaning as a wave of pain rolled through his body, the young man tripped over his own feet, falling to the misty ground.

Harry gasped as he felt blood dripping from his forehead. Raising a trembling hand, the wizard was shocked when he pulled it away to see his fingertips covered in crimson blood. Harry screamed as a splitting pain exploded from his scar, sending his green eyes rolling back in his head. Moaning in pain, the Boy-Who-Lived slowly pulled his knees to his chest, rocking slightly as he tried to ignore the agony in his head.

_So instead of fields and happy days, I get gray mist and pain all the time! Great, this is bloody brilliant, just what I—_

Harry's thoughts were abruptly cut off as pain exploded throughout his body. Despite everything he had experienced in his life, this was a whole new level of pain, a level that brought Harry to the brink of passing out within seconds. He screamed— a horrific, heart shattering sound that invoked tears in the eyes of the most apathetic serial killer. He could feel blood welling in his throat almost immediately as his screams ripped at his vocal cords, shredding the tender organs with little mercy. His entire body thrashed and twisted in a useless attempt to escape the pain. Whimpers bubbled up to his lips as Harry jerked painfully, his bright, emerald green eyes rolling back in his head as he passed out.

**xXx**

Steve's stare was intent, completely focused on the whimpering, sweating form of the newcomer. The new arrival had been moaning and crying in the bed for hours now, leaving Steve to deal with indecisiveness. The young man wasn't displaying symptoms of your average coma, at least, not in the captain's opinion. People in comas didn't scream and whimper, in fact, they barely moved at all! This guy though, appeared to be trapped in a nightmare, not a coma. Steve huffed and crossed his arms, determined to watch from _his_ side of the glass. A particularly loud cry followed by a full body shudder, however, crushed the captain's will into minuscule pieces as he rushed down the hall and into the hospital ward. Jogging up to the hospital bed upon which the newcomer slept, Steve stretched out his hand as if to clutch the newcomer's own, only to freeze when he realized what he was doing. Jerking his trembling appendage back, Steve took several hasty steps away from the tormented man's hospital bed as he immediately began an internal lecture.

_What the hell, Steve?! This kid is a potential threat; you cannot be fraternizing with potential enemies!_

**_But,_** began a more rational voice, **_He's also an injured, lost, terrified person. What kind of captain—no, what kind of _person_ would I be if I just left him here without offering help?_**

_That doesn't mean you need to literally hold his hand while he's comatose!_

**_Maybe skin to skin contact will offer him some grounding. When people are comatose, they can hear things around them, and since this doesn't seem to be a normal coma— or a coma at all for that matter—maybe he can feel things around him. He looks like he's trapped in a nightmare, maybe I can wake him up?_**

Before the debate could get any farther, the young man let out another pained, terrified whimper. The desperate sound was like a stake through Steve's crumbling will. The captain then found he was powerless to stop himself as he stepped forward and reached out to clutch the arrival's thin, pale hand with his own. Almost immediately, the emaciated, trembling figure began to calm; his shivering limbs stilling to the occasional spasm, and his cries quieting to rare whimpers. Steve sighed. It seemed he was going to be there awhile.

Pulling up a chair, the muscular man settled himself into a semi-comfortable position, his hand never leaving its place in the young man's own. Having gotten comfy, Steve realized his thumb had been unconsciously rubbing calming circles on the inside of the distressed newcomer's wrist. He went to stop the motions, only to freeze again as he realized they were calming the guy— not to mention the fact that he didn't _really_ want to stop. Steve sighed; he was most definitely stuck, though that really didn't seem like such a bad idea.

It was just to comfort the poor guy of course—only to comfort.

**xXx**

Harry Potter had officially decided he didn't like dying. Not. At. All.

The pain flashing through his body had reached unbearable heights several times already. Indeed, the young soldier had passed out several times already. With each tumble into oblivion, Harry felt the pain increasing. It didn't help, either, that the oblivion provided a way for his nightmares to become reality. Struggling to his knees, Harry panted as he tried to stop the trembling muscle spasms throughout his body.

This was worse than a _Cruciatus Curse_ by Voldemort's wand.

Harry gasped as another wave of agony rolled through his body. The wizard didn't know what time it was anymore; time had become invalid. Harry simply measured everything by his 'episodes'. The pain would steadily increase in segmented increments, relentless in its abuse. Harry inevitably passed out each time, falling into a world of nightmarish reality. When he awoke, the entire process would simply begin again. The Dark-Lord's-Destroyer had absolutely no clue what was going on, though he was leaning towards the theory that Fate had it out for him.

_Oh, you didn't feel pain as you were dying? Really? Well then, I suppose we'll just have to heap it on you in the afterlife! _Harry snorted weakly, as he imagined Fate having Dolores Umbridge's sweet, high pitched voice. As an afterthought, the wizard added an evil chuckle to Fate's persona.

"There." He gasped, bringing a shivering hand up to his aching ribs. "Now Fate is… a cross…between ol' Voldie…and that Umbitch." Harry gasped as a tidal wave of fire flooded his blood, setting his limbs aflame. The wizard let loose an ear-piercing scream as he fell to the misty floor, body contorting and convulsing as it tried to fight the fire in his veins.

_Make it stop! Please make it stop! PLEASE!_ Harry sobbed as he curled into the fetal position, scrambling to put up his Occlumency barriers in a pitiful attempt to stave off his impending fall into oblivion. Rolling to his side as his muscles tensed and released in convoluted seizures, Harry gasped in astonishment. The fire in his blood was slowly cooling to bearable temperatures, closer to that of a low fever than a spewing volcano.

Shivering, the wizard focused his magic on his limbs—though it was a struggle as he could barely locate his core—trying to pinpoint what exactly was causing the pain to decrease. After several, long moments, Harry's sluggish magic finally centered around his left hand which was glowing brightly to the soldier's watering eyes. Another spasm began to rock his overtaxed body, only to still as a warmth of some sort flooded his pale, clammy hand. The heat in his hand was different than the fire that had been suffocating the soldier. It was comforting, very similar to the feeling one got when coming home for the first time in months.

Home. Harry blinked. Did he even have a home anymore? Homes were supposed to be safe, a place where one could relax in the knowledge that they were secure. Harry snorted. If that was the case, then he hadn't had a home since sixth year, so that made it….four years. Four years since the wizard had been _home._

Pushing his rather depressing thoughts to the side, Harry shivered slightly as he attempted to snuggle closer to the warmth. The wizard didn't know how long he sat there simply basking in the relief of his pain, when the safe feeling in his hand abruptly began to pull away. Fighting the sleep that was threatening to overwhelm his exhausted, lethargic limbs, Harry sat bolt upright. "No!" He cried, clenching his hand into a fist, his knuckles turning white with tension. Harry's eyelids drooped as another surge of exhaustion rocked his body. "Safe." He whispered as the wizard slowly laid down once more, pining for the warmth that had been keeping his nightmares away.

_"Alright, I'll stay, I promise. I'll be here, and you'll be safe. Don't worry."_ Harry nodded sleepily as the disembodied voice continued to murmur reassurances in his ear, the warmth returning to his left hand. A small smile flitted about the young man's lips as he sighed contently.

"Safe." He murmured as the wings of night slowly carried him away from the oblivion and into a land of dreams.

**xXx**

Steve sighed as he gradually stretched in his plastic chair, groaning when several joints throughout his aching frame popped. The blonde startled slightly when several quiet giggles emanated from the corner of the hospital bay. Turning in a rather awkward position, the captain caught sight of one of the nurses in the bay. Her nametag flashed in the fluorescent lighting as Steve silently read _Adelia Perrez_.

"Hello ma'am." He murmured, internally sighing when the young woman giggled like a school girl. It was quite annoying when women did that. It was as though his presence made them lose all sense of intelligence and self-respect.

"Morning." She whispered just as quietly. Steve's eyes widened. Was it really morning already? The captain's stomach growled accusingly, filling the silent room with the sound of its gurgles. Steve blushed as the nurse giggled once more. Grumbling under his breath, the man from another time sluggishly disentangled his fingers from the newcomer's, his mind wandering towards ideas as to what he would eat for breakfast. _I wonder how long I've been here….must have been quite some time for me to get this hungry._ Shrugging it off as one time occurrence, Steve stood to leave, only to freeze as the newcomer's hand shot out to grip his fingers giving a sharp cry of "No!" as he did so.

Both conscious occupants in the hospital froze as the man whispered _safe_ in a pitiful voice. Steve stiffened. Did this mean the man was coming out of his coma? It had to be a miracle! Turning towards the stunned nurse with wide eyes, Steve mouthed "What do I do?!" She made a frantic shooing motion with her hands as she pointed towards the unconscious man. Gently wrapping his hand around the young man's Steve leaned down towards the man's ear.

"Alright, I'll stay, I promise. I'll be here, and you'll be safe. Don't worry." Nurse Perrez jogged over with several complex pieces of medical equipment.

"Sir?" She called. "Can you hear me? If you can hear me, I need you to tap the bed once." There was no response, save for the slackening of the man's grip on Steve's hand.

"Sir?" Adelia called again as she frantically set up her equipment.

"Safe." The man whispered as his whole hand went slack. The sound of his heart beat on the monitor filled the hospital room as Steve listened to its slow, steady beat. Finally, the nurse snapped out of her daze.

"I need to go inform the doctors, please stay here, Mr. Rogers. I don't know what will happen to him if you leave. Since you've arrived, our newcomer has been quieter, calmer. Keep him safe." With those parting words, the harried nurse dashed out of the bay in search of the head doctor, leaving a bewildered Steve behind.

The captain sighed. It appeared he would be here awhile longer.

Somehow, the thought didn't bother him as much as it should.

**xXx**

Tony glared at the crystal chandelier in his bedroom, his soulful brown eyes boring into the gorgeous fixture. His latest bed partner had just left with Pepper, leaving him to glower at the blinding chandelier as it reflected the morning sunlight around his room. His eyes seemed to beg the crystal candelabrum for the answers to the world, as if he hoped the burnished object could answer him.

Tony huffed as he thought about the previous night. The sex had been wonderful, but the billionaire felt there was something missing. He was tired of having a different partner each night; he wanted an emotional relationship to balance the lusting, passionate side. Ever since he had returned from Afghanistan, Tony had taken a new outlook on life— especially with his rather dangerous job as an agent of SHIELD and a member of the Avengers Initiative. The billionaire's life was at risk every day, simply because he existed. That kind of ominous doom looming over one's head tended to change one's morals and outlook on life. The genius had discovered just how much he was missing in his life while he was captive. He had realized there were only people he wanted to say goodbye to while being held captive; Pepper, Happy, and Jarvis— two of his employees and a _machine_.

That particular revelation had been an icicle through his heart. Tony had, of course, attempted to get on the dating scene, but he had swiftly discovered that it was a pointless endeavor resulting in his trust being chipped away by near constant gold-diggers attempting to get at his fortune. It wasn't long after this big epiphany, that Tony reverted back to his old habits; bedding a new conquest each night in a pitiful attempt to protect his heart. In reality, the billionaire knew he was only hurting himself more by building his walls too high for anyone to get past. At this rate he would never meet anyone who could keep his damaged heart safe. He could see the pity in Pepper's eyes each time he emerged from his workshop the morning after his one-night-stand had left— she, of course, knew all about his attempts at having a steady relationship— and quite frankly he was tired of it. If he didn't find a long term partner soon, he was going fucking celibate!

Grumbling under his breath, Tony rolled out if his California king size bed, and searched out an old stained shirt. He had a date with his workshop that he really couldn't be late to.

As the billionaire strolled down into his garage, Pepper came jogging after him, moving as fast as her heels would allow. "Tony!" She called, forcing the genius to pause. Turning to his panting assistant, the brunette raised a brow. "Natasha…is on the…phone; says it's urgent." The redhead gasped, glaring at the mobile in her hand. Tony sighed in a rather put-upon manner as he turned around and continued his descent into his garage.

"Tell her I'm not in!" He called up the stairwell.

"She thought you would say that," A new voice replied, startling the billionaire enough to turn him around. "That's why she sent me as well." Tony scowled as he pouted up at Agent Phil Coulson. The man had nearly died during the Chitauri attack on New York. The doctor's working for SHIELD had been positive he wouldn't survive the night. Coulson had proven them wrong by surviving that night, and the following six months' worth of nights, in a coma. The team had visited his bed often, simply recounting their days for the kind mentor. When Phil had woken, he had remembered everything and given Tony a stern scolding for taking the suit out while completely smashed.

Shaking his head, the billionaire crossed his arms. "I suppose you want me to come in then?" He groaned. Agent Coulson nodded with a small smile. Tony sighed as he turned towards his favorite, most irritating robot.

"I suppose I'll have to take a rain check on our date. Sorry little guy." Dummy hummed sadly as his arms drooped. Tony chuckled at the defective 'bot. The genius could never find it in himself to dismantle the endearing machine. Turning around, the billionaire slowly began the ascent back to the first floor of his tower.

"I'll be at the ship in twenty!" He called over his shoulder. Agent Coulson smiled.

"I knew you would." He murmured, tapping on his phone as he left the building "You always come when you're needed."

**AN: So did you guys enjoy it? Like I said, Harry won't be nearly as weepy and emotional—though that doesn't mean instincts won't force him to be submissive! ;) I also decided to keep Phil alive, because, well…He keeps Fury in line I suppose!**

**Anyway, I hope this seems a little better than my first attempt! I'll put chapter two up in about a week I think! Oh, and this is unbeta'd as i do not have a beta. Any grammar or punctuation mistakes are all one me.**

**DramaQueen50**


	2. Chapter 2

_Summary: Harry was sentenced to die, forced to fall through the Veil just as his godfather had. He didn't care; he accepted it and looked forward to seeing his parents and godparents once more. But he didn't appear to have died as he should have; in fact, Harry would go so far as to say he had never felt as alive as he did now. Maybe it was the man with shield, or maybe it was the guy in the gold and red suit, Harry didn't know. All he knew was he was alive; for the first time in his life, Harry felt alive._

Warnings: Slash, extensive mentions of torture and death, triad relationships. If you do not know, slash is a relationship between two people of the same gender!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or Avengers, or The Marvel Universe.

**AN: I would first like to thank everybody who has stayed with me on the revision of chapter one. I know this is probably really, super irritating, but I figure I should get this out of the way now, before it really screws the story up later. Chapter one had a lot of changes, as those of you who read may know, and this one has some changes as well. They aren't nearly as prominent as the ones in chapter one, but they are important! I hope this is better than my first attempt at writing chapter two, and any mistakes in the chapter are all my own as I have no beta.**

**DramaQueen50**

**_Damaged Goods: Chapter Two_**

Steve groaned as he clapped a hand over his cell phone in a futile attempt to muffle the cursed bleeping. He blinked sleepily as he tried to clear the cobwebs from his head, his blonde hair sticking up every which way. Grabbing the small device, Steve blearily glanced at the screen and groaned again, dropping his head onto the waiting pillow. Tapping the screen with his thumb, the blonde glared at the text as his plans of spending the day with the comatose newcomer went careening down the drain.

"Meeting in room 8 level 5 with the team and Director Fury at 8:45 a.m." The text read, its bold letters making the message loud and clear. Steve glanced at the top of the screen and moaned; it was five in the freaking morning. Tossing his phone to the bedside table, the captain flopped down and rolled over, determined to return to his rather delightful dream in which he and the mysterious young man in the hospital bay, were exploring the many aspects of the kitchen together—that was one of Steve's staples; he had to have a date who knew how to cook, or at least had experience in the kitchen.

If he couldn't spend his morning having a one-way conversation with his raven, then Steve was damn well going to enjoy his dreams about the young man.

**xXx**

Director Fury's face was a mask of anger as he strode into the meeting room, his jaw clenched as tightly as his fists. As he passed through the menacing metal doors, a loud clink sounded before the lights flashed off and the room was secured against any outsiders trying to force their way in. When the lighting returned, the assembled Avengers and various agents found Fury standing at the front of the room, his hands clasped behind a stiff, straight back. Steve was struggling to control his irritation as he fought to keep from scowling at his commanding officer—at the moment his only wish was to go to the hospital ward to check on the raven haired youth, and possibly have a nap while he was at it. Though he had no desire to participate in the meeting, Steve decided it would definitely be in his best interests to at least pay attention to the meeting. It was with that thought in mind that the Avenger found the will to force himself to focus.

"All of the information reported to you throughout this meeting is and will remain classified. I expect it to stay within this room, or those ears of the agents here." Director Fury demanded, giving his agents a hard glare. It was obvious to everybody in the room the commander was pissed, and several agents were almost afraid to know what could have made the director so furious—the last person to get him quite that angry was Bruce Banner after he refused to join SHIELD, and nearly destroyed some of their top technological advances in a single temper tantrum. Several agents shivered at the memory of the angered doctor, silently praying not to have another guy like Hulk—one of them was enough to deal with. Director Fury gave a short nod of approval as he gained the attention of all the assembled agents, before he commenced the meeting.

"As of this morning, our newest arrival is officially a very dangerous, very volatile enemy. He will be referred to as Undesirable No. 1 from now on." Fury declared his voice cold and harsh as he glared at each shocked Avenger. The team had gotten quite close to the comatose boy over the last few weeks. Upon his second day staying in the hospital bay, all Avengers team members had been informed of the change in the young man's condition. They had rushed to the hospital with eager anticipation at the prospect of receiving new information about the man, only to be disappointed. It appeared the young man was in a variation of a coma. It was as though he was trapped in a nightmare, and would scream in pain at random intervals throughout the day. Eventually the nurses and doctors had learned of a pattern to his screams, but by then, the Avengers had discovered something much more important. The newcomer seemed to have a connection to Steve and Tony. If either man was in the room, the injured patient seemed to sense them, and would automatically begin whimpering, as though he was calling for either hero.

The Avengers had all been stunned—excluding Steve as the captain already knew of the teen's strange habit—and had watched curiously as the blonde had simply walked over and clutched the patient's hand, quietly whispering soothing words in the distraught man's ear. Each member of the team had tried to replicate the reaction in the guy, but it was only when Tony had stepped forward, did the newcomer react. His hand had shot out to grip the billionaire's shirt with surprising strength given the extensity of his injuries. An encouraging shove from Clint had Tony falling onto the bed, wherein the young man immediately snuggled into the genius' chest, determined to keep hold of the brunette's shirt. For the next three weeks, the Avengers had all made sure to visit the injured young man; even if it was only to deliver a simple greeting. Steve could often be found sitting by the boy's side, though Tony was usually there throughout the night. The heroes had also come to know the two nurses extremely well. The ladies could always be found puttering about the strange man's bed, chit chatting with Steve or talking to the unconscious male.

Steve's fists clenched as he felt every drop of blood leave his face, his mask slipping a little as his eyes burned holes into Director Fury's head—the phrase 'if looks could kill' was only too true at the moment. Almost immediately, Tony's hand was at Steve's arm, grasping the band of muscle in a near deadly grip. Despite their lack of similar interests, the old-fashioned captain had found himself growing the closest to the billionaire, if only because both had the ability to calm the unruly patient. In the evenings, when Tony arrived at the hospital bay to help subdue the young man, he would patiently tutor Steve on all things electric—though the snarky billionaire could not resist teasing the blonde often throughout their sessions. Silently thanking the billionaire, Steve glanced to the side, wincing as he noticed Bruce's eyes.

The scientist's eyes were flecked with green, and he was shaking slightly as he tried to force his anger away—now would not be a good time to let the Hulk out, no matter how close he felt he was to the sickly teen. Shoving their tempers into the recesses of their minds, the three men honed in on the raven haired man's 'crimes', determined to prove his innocence.

"When I went into the hospital ward to check with the doctors on how Undesirable was doing, I was immediately presented with this sight." Stepping aside, Fury clicked a small remote, activating the projection of a rather gory picture onto the screen behind him. "This was Nurse Adelia Perezz and Nurse Veronica Sanchez." Fury said, pointing first to a young, twenty something red head—who was thrown halfway over a hospital bed with her head facing the ground—and secondly to an older brunette with open, terrified eyes—she was staring at something with horrific fright on her face, her warm, mocha colored eyes hazy with blood loss and fear. The two women were covered in the crimson, life-giving source; their throats ripped open by an animal of some kind. The sheer amount of blood spattered about their bodies was enough to make the most hardened war veteran queasy, indeed the agents in the room all looked a touch pale.

"These two nurses have been caring for Undesirable, since he arrived as you all know. They had been seeing to his needs while he was comatose and had been on duty last night. They were scheduled to go home at midnight last night, but decided to stay on till morning, as Undesirable was showing signs of waking at any moment. This was what they were presented with upon return to the hospital ward after their break at 8:15 am." The next photo was a picture from a surveillance camera in the hospital ward. Steve's eyes widened as he paled— if possible— even more.

The once comatose man was in the middle of a leap from his hospital bed towards an unsuspecting Nurse Adelia. The nurse had dropped her pile of paperwork as she stared at the boy with pure terror on her face. Undesirable's face was twisted into a feral snarl. The young man's eyes were narrowed and flashing with little sanity as he leapt to attack the young woman. Steve leaned closer and gasped as he realized the male's eyes were blood red—an unnatural color in any human. His hands were extended in front of him, fingers hooked to accommodate short, wickedly curved, ebony claws. Steve felt a shiver pass down his spine as his own, shockingly blue irises took in every detail of the terrifying photo. He could feel Fury's gaze on him, but refused to look at his commander, instead choosing to force his sluggish brain to analyze the next gruesome photo.

"As you can imagine, Undesirable attacked the Nurses and left them drained of most of their blood, lying in what little of the liquid they had left. When I arrived, I not only saw this," Fury declared, waving at the first photo, "but this as well." At this point, Director Fury brought up a third photo, and Steve had to keep himself from vomiting at the sight of the man he had grown to enjoy.

The male was curled in a corner of the hospital ward, his knees drawn up to his chest as his bloodied hands clutched his messy hair. The guy was staring at the opposite wall with vacant, emerald green eyes, his lips parted in an attempt to get oxygen. His face was deathly pale and splattered with blood—as was the rest of his body. He looked terrified and he appeared to be hyperventilating. What terrified the captain the most, however, was the sickly blue color that had invaded the man's forearms. The color was deeply imbedded into the bloodstained man's skin, and gave him the appearance of suffering from frostbite. Steve's heart clenched at the picture, his mind rebelling at the sight.

_His eyes shouldn't be empty! They should be dancing and sparkling with life, they should be roaring with a hidden fire! They can't be so emotionless and hollow! He can't be broken after just waking up!_ Steve's conscious screamed, his heart tearing as it tried to configure the picture of the broken man as the same man Steve had shared his fears and hopes and dreams with late at night when he visited because he couldn't sleep. Tony's hand flexed on the captain's burly arm, his muscles tensing as his fingernails dug into Steve's skin.

"When this picture was taken," Director Fury's voice sliced through Steve's thoughts as it forcefully dragged him back to reality. "Undesirable was in the corner whimpering and whining as he rocked himself. It appears he was either unable to handle his brutal murder of the nurses, or he has been mentally unstable from the start. Either way, Undesirable has been placed in isolation until further notice. He receives three meals a day and has a guard of eight men round the clock. I expect you to be ready to kill him at any moment should he find some ungodly way to escape." Fury growled, his good eye roving the agents before finally landing on Steve and Tony in a cold stare.

For some unknown reason, Steve felt an intense anger building in the bottom of his gut, roiling and boiling under the surface of his skin as he glared at his commanding officer. How dare this man chain up _his_ raven?! What right did _he_ have to lock up _Steve's_ raven?! _And when did he become my raven?!_

Forcing himself to suck in a deep breath, Steve let it out between tightly clenched teeth, the hiss sounding ominously loud in the otherwise silent room. The blonde captain could feel all of the Avengers' eyes on him, as though they were gauging how safe he was, how sane he was. It hurt; it hurt to feel their pity and their mistrust, to feel his very team members try to decide if he was safe to approach. Closing his eyes, Steve recalled the photos he had just seen.

_He did that; your** raven** is a monster that needs to be controlled._ A quiet voice hissed venomously in Steve's ear. Though his heart rebelled, Steve knew it was true, and that—logically speaking— his rav—no, _Undesirable_ was dangerous, and had murdered the nurses in cold blood. Opening his eyes, Steve finally raised them to meet Fury's.

"Yes sir."

**xXx**

Tony glared at the engine of his newest project— his '08 Audi R8. The rugged genius had been feeling twitchy lately, and twitchy meant bored. Being the Stark billionaire—not to mention Iron Man extraordinaire— that he was Tony had decided to up the ante in his Audi's engine. His goal was to get it going over 200 mph—among other things of course. The project had sounded like a fun little something to do, that is, until the meeting on the Helicarrier this morning.

Tony sighed as he threw his oil cloth to the ground and walked over to the couch in his garage—it was useless for him to continue on his project if he couldn't keep his thoughts focused on the damn thing—and threw himself onto the old, dirty piece of furniture, uncaring of the oil spattering his clothes. Resting his chin on his hand, Tony stared into space for a moment, his mind whirring before he grabbed one of his modified iPads off a nearby table. Turning on the machine, he called out, "Jarvis, have you hacked into SHIELD's security system on Undesirable's solitary unit yet?"

"Yes sir." The AI replied. Tony nodded to himself, his face a mask of indecision for a split second before he came to his senses. What was he thinking, worrying over _why_ he wanted to watch a stupid video— he was Tony Stark, he could do whatever the hell he wanted, reason or not!

"Jarvis pull up the feed on the iPad, please, and make it present feed."

"Sir, I would caution you—"

"Just do it, Jarvis." Tony ordered, his voice cutting the AI off before an argument could ensue. Jarvis gave a defeated sigh as the video uploaded onto the screen in Tony's lap. Tapping the picture, Tony pulled it off the iPad to hover in front of him— holographic technology, one of the best pieces of technology _ever_.

Sighing, Toy settled in for what he assumed would be a boring video. He didn't think it would be anything more than watching a teen walk in circles within his cell, but something was nagging at the billionaire to check in on Undesirable anyway. It was the kind of feeling he got when he was working on a new project, and was on the brink of having a huge breakthrough. Tony's eyes widened as he honed in on the video.

The teen was curled up on his bed in the farthest corner from the door. He was still covered in blood from the hospital homicide, and he had struck the same position as he had been in when Fury had found him. Tony blinked as he watched the frail teen rock on the bed, his shaggy, ebony colored locks swaying with the momentum. The man's pale fingers were wrapped tightly in several clumps of those locks, almost painfully so. _He has rather nice hands,_ Tony thought. _Pale, slender, and— wait, fingers?_ Narrowing his eyes, Tony zoomed in on the teen's face, searching for any sign of the deadly claws the kid had previously had.

"Gone—great, another one with anger management issues." Tony murmured sarcastically, though his heart didn't seem to be behind the comment. As Tony looked closer, he noticed tear tracks carving identical paths on Undesirable's hollow, scarred cheeks. Fresh tears were dripping from the boy's pained yet gorgeous, emerald green eyes.

_Damn does he have a set of eyes; if only they weren't— no! Dammit Tony you are not supposed to wish for the enemy to be happy! They can be miserable for all you care! _ Growling, Tony abruptly closed the feed and crossed his arms as he glared at his Audi. Why the hell did his heart hurt every time he saw those emerald orbs?

"Maybe the reactor is acting up..." Toy muttered as he swiftly stood to leave his garage. "I'd better run some scans to be sure." He said to himself, leaving the iPad lying on his couch as he forced thoughts of Undesirable No. 1 from his head.

The video continued to play as Tony walked away. The billionaire, oblivious as he was, missed the blue tint that had slowly begun crawling its way through the distraught man's arms. Ice was collecting in the corner that Undesirable had curled up in, freezing the walls with a near impossible intensity.

But of course, Tony missed it all as he began to run various scans on the arc reactor, ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of his head. The billionaire refused to dwell on Undesirable, despite the fact that he had spent every night for the past three weeks with the man curled against his chest.

**xXx**

Harry dropped his head to his hands and sobbed. The memories of his waking were plaguing him like the stupid mist he had escaped from. They never hesitated to attack his mind should he allow them through his feeble barriers.

_ Harry had noticed something was off the moment he had come too. The mist was darker than usual, almost black in some places, and it seemed to be swirling around his frame. Harry groaned as he scratched his throat _again,_ trying desperately to rid himself of that ungodly itch. It had been haunting him for what felt like days now, steadily increasing as the spasms slowly fled. The pain that had once racked his body with cruel spasms was nearly nonexistent and he felt rather refreshed. In fact, Harry felt better than he had in a long time, with the exception of that burning itch of course._

_The young wizard groaned again as tears sprung to his eyes. His throat _burned_ and it wouldn't stop! Whimpering, he scratched at the tender flesh on his neck, hopelessly trying to rid himself of the painful sensation. It was futile, of course, and only resulted in more pain on Harry's part, but he couldn't stop. Moaning, Harry sat up as he peered through his bangs at the swirling mist. His eyes widened as he took in the dangerous vortex that seemed to have formed before him in the short amount of time it had taken for him to wake up. All the mist in the area seemed to be orbiting around the vortex as it was sucked into the mass._

_"What the bloody hell?!" He cried, staring in terror at the massive black hole of sorts. He was supposed to be dead! He wasn't supposed to be living another life in this land of mist; he was supposed to be dead, just _dead_! Dead people didn't see blood from curse scars! Dead people didn't have to deal with mist and burning throats; dead people were dead! Sobbing, Harry screamed as he felt the vortex begin to pull him in. _

_"Oh Merlin, someone help me!" He cried, desperately wishing for the voices to come and make this nightmare go away—it wasn't a nightmare of course, but a kid could dream couldn't he. The vortex was moving faster as Harry felt himself being pulled in by the sheer force of the roiling mass. He was but a rag doll at the hands of the unruly winds, his limbs getting ripped about as he struggled to stay conscious. When a particularly harsh twist had Harry's neck snapping around in a most painful manner, he gave up and succumbed to the scarier of the two oblivions, hoping he wouldn't have to face his nightmares on top of the vortex. What little light that was left in the mist faded as Harry blacked out._

_He had been prepared for his nightmares—almost— and had been ready for hours of painful memories, but then... Then he had woken up._

Harry gasped and clutched his head as he tried to dislodge the memories, tears slowly leaking down his cheeks.

"I didn't mean to hurt them." He whimpered as he rocked. "I was just so thirsty...thirsty..." Rolling over, Harry buried his face in the stiff pillow provided by his captors. He deserved this; he deserved to die in the most gruesome, unholy way possible. He was a murderer. Harry felt a sob building in his chest. He had been a killer during the war, definitely, but never a _murderer_. Murderers got something out of killing, be it pleasure, revenge, attention….a food source. Hysteria bubbled in Harry's throat as he thought of his actions in the hospital.

"Harry Potter, Defeater of Voldemort and Murdering Monster!" He screamed as guilt ate at his heart.

He really didn't want to be a murderer.

**xXx**

Steve glared at his sketchbook, his hands idly toying with a pencil. He should be drawing—he knew that—but his thoughts wouldn't organize themselves enough to focus on mere art at the moment. He was distracted; he knew that as well, but he couldn't honestly bring himself to care. As long as it was his raven distracting him—No! Steve growled as he forced his thoughts in order, his mind analyzing what it was he intended to draw.

After Director Fury had dismissed the agents, Steve had gone to the hospital, his rather depressing, infuriated mood keeping the rest of the Avengers at bay. The hospital had been like a scene from a horror movie. The restrained murderer's bed was a complete mess, the blankets strewn about from the man's effort to escape their confinement. Blood spattered everything; the walls, the tiled floor, the pristine sheets, and the best medical technology money could buy. Steve could easily spot the distinct areas where the two nurses had died—Nurse Adelia over a bed at the front of the ward closest to hospital door, and Nurse Veronica against a wall, the phone dangling from its jack from her attempt at calling for help.

Apparently the call hadn't gone through.

Steve felt a shiver pass down his spine as he pulled up the pictures from the meeting on his phone. He was determined to figure out what kind of physical characteristics presented themselves in his little—in _Undesirable_ when the teen felt threatened. He scanned the pictures with an intense stare, his mind calculating and filing away each detail for later observation, analyzing, and thought. After about twenty minutes of sitting in silence, Steve's hand began to move.

The gray lead of the pencil smudged the paper in great, sloping strokes as Steve sketched. His hand was strong and steady as it moved with all the grace of a dancer at the climax of a performance. His eyebrows were scrunched slightly in concentration, and every few seconds he would huff out a breath in an effort to keep his blonde hair from falling in his eyes. He was determined to perfect this picture, if only because it was of a rather important person—enemy or not, Undesirable was important to Steve, even if it was simply because he was a large threat.

Huffing out another breath, Steve wrinkled his nose as he added another stroke of his pencil to the paper. The ice on the wall's in the corner where the man had been found was rather difficult to replicate, but Steve would persevere. He would draw this picture, and he would ignore the pain in his chest every time he thought of his companion's confinement, because he wasn't supposed to care about the murdering criminal; he was just supposed to follow orders.

**I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! I have, as you likely noticed, introduced Tony _much_ earlier this time around! Let me know what you think of the chapter!**


	3. Chapter 3

_Summary: Harry was sentenced to die, forced to fall through the Veil just as his godfather had. He didn't care; he accepted it and looked forward to seeing his parents and godparents once more. But he didn't appear to have died as he should have; in fact, Harry would go so far as to say he had never felt as alive as he did now. Maybe it was the man with shield, or maybe it was the guy in the gold and red suit, Harry didn't know. All he knew was he was alive; for the first time in his life, Harry felt alive._

Warnings: Slash, extensive mentions of torture and death, triad relationships. If you do not know, slash is a relationship between two people of the same gender!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or Avengers, or The Marvel Universe.

**AN: WOW! Thank you so much for all your support! I'm completely shocked by how quickly this story took off! I hope you guys liked Chapter Two! Bit of a twist in there, yeah? Anyway, you'll get a bit more information about Harry's little 'problem' in this chapter. Oh, and just so you know, I did make up the _Blindrykkyu_ race by combining two words from Old Norse on Google. I do hope they were translated correctly and mashed together well enough. It is pronounced Blin-drii-keyoo—that looks about like a fancy dictionary pronunciation guide, right?—and as I said, they are completely fake.**

**I'd also like to thank Scarlette Winters for being my beta on this chapter; you've been a great pillar of support for me!**

**THIS IS THE UPDATED CHAPTER AS OF TODAY(THE 19TH I THINK?)!**

**DramaQueen50**

**_Damaged Goods: Chapter Three_**

_The trees of the forest seemed to be ripping at Harry's clothes he fled the Malfoy estate. The manor loomed in the midnight sky, blocking the light of the moon as the teen ran. His black cloak was flaring about him catching on twigs and bushes, but the emerald eyed wizard refused to slow._

_Settling into a rhythm, Harry's legs carried him forward gracefully leaping over fallen trees and piles of wood. Time seemed to slow as a brilliant light flooded his vision, temporarily blinding the wizard. Desperate to slow his momentum, Harry leapt into the air, falling to the ground with a sickening crack. Lying on the needled floor dazedly, the wizard blinked as a sickly purple curse sailed towards him. With a fearful shout, Harry rolled out of the way, grimacing as one of his ribs shifted painfully._

_It was definitely broken._

_Bellatrix's high pitched cackle filled the eerily silent forest. "What did you think, Potty!? Did you think you could simply break into Malfoy Manor and escaped unharmed?!" She cackled again as a yellow curse flew towards the distracted teen. Harry grunted as he dodged._

_"I was kinda hoping for that yes." He murmured to himself. Clutching his wand, Harry lifted it into the air mumbling out a simple spell as he did so. The forest was flooded with blinding light as Harry turned and ran. He was close to the wards; if he could simply reach the edge, he could Apparate away. Clutching his ribs, the teen groaned as he ran, flitting about in the shadows of the trees._

_The sounds of breaking branches followed the wizard as he ran. Bellatrix was obviously giving chase._

_Grunting as a hex cut through the skin on his left shoulder, slicing the muscle underneath, Harry swerved around a tree. Raising his wand, the teen threw several dark curses behind, smiling grimly when Bellatrix shrieked in pain._

_At least **something** had hit the bitch._

_"Little Potty's learned how to play!" The insane witch taunted as the two ran through the forest. Harry groaned as another curse hit his calf, peeling away the flesh on his leg as he ran. Biting his lip to hold back a scream, Harry frantically pressed a button on his bracelet. Immediately a hidden compartment in the silver band opened, revealing several potions of a violet color. Pulling one out, Harry swiftly swallowed the foul liquid as he ran, sighing in relief as the flesh on his calf stopped falling away._

_That was a nasty curse it was._

_Of course, it wasn't near as bad as the tree Harry abruptly ran into. Groaning as he felt his nose crack, Harry clenched his fist as he raised his wand. He had to keep moving, but to move, he had to breathe._

_"Episkey." He whispered, tapping his nose. The teen nearly cried out as the bone shifted and snapped into place. Rolling to his knees, he stumbled forward, gasping as pain erupted in his lung._

**_Shit._**

_Harry's eyes scanned the forest frantically as he searched for enemies. He had to get out of there **now** or he wouldn't make it through the night. Forcing his pierced lung to expand, Harry sprinted towards the shimmering wards._

**_So close, almost there!_**

_A brilliant red curse blasted through the night sky, sending Harry flying through the air as he screamed. Tiny nails pricked his skin while sandpaper rubbed over his muscles. Pain flooded his nervous system as the teen struggled to remain conscious. How he **loathed** the Cruciatus. Harry's eyes widened as he flew through the dome of wards. He was falling towards the ground from a dangerous height at a rapid pace, but it didn't matter._

_He was outside the wards._

_He could Apparate._

_Harry smirked as he clutched his wand and thought of headquarters. Moody would be pleased; he had obtained the Elder Wand._

Harry gasped as his eyes shot open, phantom pains from the Cruciatus he had received ghosting through his limbs. Forcing his body to cease its trembling, Harry slowly sat up his eyes wide as he stared about his little cell. How could he have forgotten about his wand!? Rolling to his feet, the wizard slowly stood on weak legs as he searched the thin hospital garments for his weapon.

Nothing.

Harry growled as he slammed a fist against the closest wall. Maybe this was penance, a punishment for all those he had killed in battle. Harry sighed as he closed his eyes. Moody had never gotten the chance to teach him wandless magic, as they had just begun the process of searching for his core. Grumbling under his breath, Harry swiped a hand through his hair, his brow scrunching as he felt a sticky substance coat his fingers. Extracting his hand from his long, tangled hair, Harry curiously held his fingers up for examination.

The young wizard gagged as he saw the blood coating the appendages, dried and rust colored against his pale flesh. It was from the nurses; the women he had _murdered_. Fighting the urge to vomit, Harry swiftly walked towards the small, slightly covered toilet hoping to find a sink. The wizard sighed in relief as he turned on the icy water in the steel sink, scrubbing his wands with soap as he ran them through his hair and down his face. The water was a pale pink by the time the young man had cleaned himself and his clothing of as much blood as possible. Wringing the freezing water from his thin clothes, Harry slid them back on distastefully.

"Well," he muttered in resignation, "I might as well do something productive." Striding out of the curtained area, Harry shivered as the cool air of his cell blasted through his wet clothing. Choosing to ignore the blanket on his bed, the wizard dropped to the floor in the middle of his cell, assuming the lotus position. His breathing was even and slow as he fell into the familiar steps of his meditation routine.

In. Out. In. Out. One. Two. One. Two. Breathe. Breathe.

Harry's magic was positively thrumming as he slowly descended into a trance-like state. When he opened his eyes again, Harry nearly gasped in astonishment. His magic was saturating the room, positively glowing as it painted the walls. It extended from every pore on his body, flowing from his veins and into his muscles. Harry stared at his hand in awe, reveling in the ability to _see_ his magic.

Magic had always been precious to him, something to cherish and be thankful for. Had it not been for magic, Harry would have been stuck with the Dursleys his whole life. The wizard shuddered at the thought as he inhaled sharply. His magic had turned black with rage as he thought of his _family_. Shivering in excitement, Harry stretched out a timid hand, gently stroking a tendril of magic as it extended from somewhere along his body. The curl of magic brightened to a light pink, much like the color of a pale rose, and twined around Harry's fingers. It slid around his hand playfully as he stroked it, enjoying the tingling he could feel within his chest as his magic responded.

It meant his magic was happy, that little tingle. Continuing his stroking of the tendril, Harry concentrated on the tingle, determined to find his core. Giggling slightly—a manly chortle mind you! Harry Potter chortled in a manly way, he did not giggle—as the wisp of magic tickled his ribs, the wizard closed his eyes, feeling about for the tingle. He gasped as he found a strong current of what he could only describe as electricity. Following the current with eager haste, Harry's eyes began to burn as light slowly descended upon him. He looked up with squinted eyes as he searched for his core, following the light as—**BANG!**

Harry growled as the door to his furnished cell slammed into the wall, signifying the arrival of his first meal. The furious wizard sneered at the guard as the man slowly backed out of his cell, keeping his weapon trained on him. Harry's eyes narrowed as he stared at the enticing tray of food. The young man was about to take his first bite, when a voice in the back of his mind wearily piped up.

_What if they spiked it?_ His appetite vanished as he sniffed the food. He had no knowledge of the smell of muggle drugs, so he played it safe instead, choosing to ignore the food and go hungry.

Settling himself in the middle of the floor, Harry began his meditation once more.

He was determined to find his core.

**xXx**

Natasha sighed as she walked into the kitchen at Avengers' Tower, rolling her shoulders slowly as she worked the kinks out of her neck. As easy as guard duty appeared to be, it had a real bite to it that usually resulted in cramped muscles and sore necks. Unstrapping her multitude of weapons, the assassin dropped several guns on the counter as she observed the scene before her.

Bruce and Pepper were moving about the kitchen in a synchronized team, preparing a succulent meal for the rest of the Avengers. Usually Steve would be helping out as well, but he had locked himself in his room after Undesirable was placed into solitary confinement. Several members of the Avengers had tried unsuccessfully to get the blonde captain to emerge, but each attempt simply resulted in Steve mumbling about "sketching" and "characteristics" and "Undesirable". Everybody could easily see the young man's confinement was tearing the captain up, but they were at a loss as to what they could do. The evidence against the emerald-eyed kid was solid, and Fury was the boss. Despite her boss' orders, however, Natasha was beginning to feel uneasy about the whole scenario. Something wasn't right; it felt like the team was missing a crucial piece of information—or several.

Shaking her head, the assassin swiftly grabbed Tony's scotch glass from his hand, downing the drink in one go as she sat next to Clint to watch Pepper and Bruce cook. Tony scowled and loudly voiced his opinion about Natasha's rather rude habits, only to be cut off by the smirking red head as she held out the glass for a refill. Grumbling about lousy assassins with too much ego, Tony fished out another glass from a cabinet as he filled them both.

"How many drinks is that now, Tony?" Clint asked innocently, his lips quirking as the billionaire scowled at him.

"This will be my second glass, seeing as how your little girlfriend over there stole my third." Tony whined, sipping his drink as he ignored Pepper's disapproving glare. Tony had taken to drinking more than usual after Undesirable had been locked up, and Pepper did _not_ agree with his coping mechanisms. Natasha grinned behind the rim of her glass—she could already see the brewing argument between the sarcastic billionaire and his hot headed assistant. The red-head's smile swiftly slid from her lips as a moan rolled out of her throat; Clint was tenderly massaging her sore muscles. Everybody laughed as they watched the deadly woman melt under the archer's talented fingers. Who would have thought the most lethal assassin in the room had a weak spot for good massages. Natasha glared at her amused teammates before swiveling as another figure appeared in the door way.

Thor stepped into the kitchen with several dirty dishes and two bags of garbage in his hands. Tony raised an inquiring eyebrow as he sipped his drink. "I'd hazard a guess that you just came from Steve's room?" Thor nodded at the billionaire as he dropped the garbage down the chute in the wall, and left Steve's dishes in the sink to be cleaned later. Tony sighed as he thought of the depressed captain. The poor man had been through a hell of a lot since he was dug out of the ice, and the billionaire feared Undesirable would be the final straw to break the camel's back. The genius didn't bother questioning his own problems concerning Undesirable. He was perfectly content with setting up shop on the banks of denial. The awkward silence that had fallen upon the kitchen was broken by the sound of dishes clinking against the granite countertop as Pepper and Bruce served the meal. When everybody had settled down to eat the aromatic orange glazed chicken, Natasha spoke.

"Guys, I think we need to do something about Undesirable." Tony barked a laugh as he stood.

"If we're going to have this conversation now, I'm going to need more scotch, and maybe some beer too." Thor's loud, booming laugh filled the kitchen as he raised his glass to the billionaire.

"Only the finest my friend!" The Asgardian exclaimed. Natasha sighed in frustration, but waited until Tony had returned with the alcohol before continuing.

"As I was saying," She stressed, grabbing the groups' attention, "We need to talk about Undesirable. I think something is wrong,as if we're missing an important detail here that could change the outcome of this game we're playing." All of the Avengers had gone silent under Natasha's gaze. She settled her brown eyes on Tony. "I know you've hacked the video already Tony, would you mind pulling it up?" Tony grunted his acquiescence.

"Jarvis, pull up the feed on the flat screen." The billionaire called as everybody turned to face the large T.V. mantled on the wall in the living room. The screen flickered to life and zoomed in on a video of the weakened young man. He was paler than he had ever been while in the Avengers' company, and appeared to have lost some weight. His eyes were slowly bleeding red before fading to green again as he convulsively clenched his hands. The group was startled by the sight of the man's eyes, many of them thinking quite distinctly of Bruce when he was trying to control the Hulk. Despite how startling Undesirable's eyes were, however, the most surprising sight was the boy's throat. He seemed to be literally clawing at the flesh on his throat, tearing the skin in an effort to get rid of some kind of itch. Everybody in the kitchen could easily hear the teen's pained whimpers as he obsessively scratched his esophagus. Natasha muted the video as she turned back to the group.

"He's been scratching his throat since the third day of his isolation, and he hasn't eaten a single bite of any of the meals provided. He barely drinks the water he's given, and I feel like his claws are going to make an appearance at any minute. We're at day ten already, and I think he's going to go feral by the end of the fourteenth." Natasha murmured, her quiet tone carrying in the kitchen.

"His behavior reminds me of the _Blindrykkyu_ on Asgard." Thor declared as he took a swig from his beer. Every head in the room whipped around to face the blonde foreigner as the man continued to nonchalantly drink his alcohol.

"And?!" Tony cried after several tense minutes of silence, desperate to get his hands on any information regarding the young man he had absolutely no feelings for. Really, denial was quite a comfortable place to live at! Thor glanced up from his meal and shrugged, ignoring the billionaire's clenched jaw and white knuckles.

"There is nothing to add; he simply has similar behavior to a race in Asgard." Bruce groaned at the god's ignorance as Tony stalked forward. The alcohol was playing severe games with the man's emotions—mainly those _totally not_ involved with Undesirable.

"Dammit, what does this race look like? What does it act like, what does it do? We need to know, Thor, and if you have the knowledge you damn well better share it!" Tony shouted, fisting some of the god's shirt in his hand. Thor's stare turned to ice as he stood from his stool, forcefully clapping a hand to Tony's fist.

"Release me, mortal, _now_." He commanded, gripping Tony's hand with iron-like force. The billionaire winced, but didn't release the cloth, choosing instead to raise his glass of scotch. Everybody in the room was tense as they reached for weapons—or in Bruce's case, tried to control their stress levels. A quiet voice cut through the tension as easily as one would slide into water.

"Tony, don't" The billionaire growled as he whipped his head around to glare at the newcomer, only to freeze at the sight of Steve Rogers standing weakly in his doorway. The captain's hair was in absolute disarray, the ends clumped together and fighting gravity as they stuck out every which way. His shocking, sea blue eyes were void of emotion and ringed with dark bruises from several sleepless nights. He was sagging slightly against the doorway frame, as though he was too exhausted to keep himself awake. Tony didn't understand why the sight of Steve so desolate sent a pang of _something_ through his chest. Bruce jumped up instantaneously, determined to help his friend, only to freeze when Steve turned a piercing stare on Thor.

"Is this what that race looks like?" He demanded, tossing an open, black leather sketchbook onto the countertop. Thor picked the book up and looked Steve's sketch over, his eyes widening as he took in the similarities between the _Blindrykkyu_ and the sketch of Undesirable when threatened.

The teen had sprouted fangs of about an inch in length, and his fingers were extended to accommodate obsidian claws of three inches in length. His ears had lengthened to points— much like a fairytale elf's would—and his eyes were shining with feral bloodlust. What were normally shimmering, vibrant, emerald green orbs were now colored crimson as the blood covering his front, and Thor felt a shiver pass down his spine as he analyzed the picture. The teen was backed into a corner that was covered in ice, and there seemed to be a trace of blue running through his arms. Thor's eyes narrowed as a sense of déjà vu rocked his system. Locking eyes with Steve, Thor slid the notebook out into the middle of the counter for the eager eyes of the rest of the Avengers.

"The _Blindrykkyu_ have longer fangs, as they extend over the bottom lip to the end of the chin. They are approximately two inches in length and are coated in a lethal poison that can kill in four hours. Within seconds of being injected with even a drop of this poison, a mortal man will find himself paralyzed; he will fall into comatose state just moments after. _Blindrykkyu _have an anti-coagulation poison on their claws as well, though their claws are quite a bit larger than these claws—on an average male _Blindrykkyu_, the claws can extend up to five inches. _Blindrykkyu _also have horns extending from mid-forehead, just above the eyebrows. This species is notorious for being hard to catch or kill, and they are often hunted for sport on Asgard. Should a warrior manage to kill a _Blindrykkyu_, they are crowned the highest honor and will feast with the gods for weeks after the festivals." Thor finished as his finger left the parchment of the sketch. Tony was glaring into his scotch while Clint and Natasha stared at the god with looks of incredulity on their faces. Bruce was serving Steve some food as the exhausted man stared at Thor in contemplative silence.

"What are we supposed to do with this?" Tony finally queried as he looked up from the amber liquid in his decanter. "I mean, sure there are some similarities, but Bruce and I are similar scientists, yet he has anger management issues while I have a fancy suit. Undesirable may be similar to the 'blinding cutes' but that doesn't mean he has the same behavioral patterns, or the same habits as one of these things."

"_Blindrykkyu_, Tony, and Undesirable doesn't need to be _identical_ to Thor's creatures. The very fact that there is a species out there _similar_ to Undesirable could mean the teen was sent to scout out the planet in hopes of unleashing this species on us." Bruce pointed out, going about the riddle that was Undesirable in a logical, methodical manor. Tony sighed and downed the rest of his drink.

"So what do we plan to _do_? Are we going to demand Fury release the kid, or just ignore these similarities? And are you going to go hole yourself up in you room again, Steve, or are you going to help us figure out this enigma?" The billionaire demanded as he stalked forward. Steve sighed as he habitually rubbed his eyes.

"I'm in the game Tony; I was spending the last week sketching that based off the pictures Fury sent us." _Among other things of course, but they don't need to know about my emotional problems—I shouldn't be pining for an enemy anyway._ Steve thought to himself as Tony nodded.

"Good—now personally, I think Clint and Natasha should observe Undesirable's habits over the next few days, and see if anything matches the habits of these… these blindr—whatever the hell they're called." Tony growled, the alcohol beginning to affect his speech levels. The rest of the team sat down to discuss the plan as the billionaire left the room—hopefully to go sleep off his four glasses of top-of-the-line scotch—leaving Steve to stare at the muted flat screen. The captain's heart clenched painfully as he watched the teen jerk awake with a silent scream, his clawed hands scrabbling at his barely scabbed throat. This kid had been to hell and back too many times, and he didn't deserve the hassle that came with Steve's baggage filled emotions.

Sighing, the blonde turned away from the screen and tried to force his sluggish mind to focus on the matter at hand. Steve had to get rid of these feelings if he was to be able to fight Undesirable off in an attack—after all; he was expected to kill the boy should he escape. The blonde groaned and dropped his head to the granite countertop as Natasha spoke up.

"If there is a species on Asgard that is similar to Undesirable, we should inform Director Fury, so we have agents prepared should the guy have a way to summon them." Clint groaned at the thought of having another battle like the one against the Chitauri—he had been sore for days afterwards, not to mention the fact that he had been a mindless drone for Loki for several days leading up to the final battle. Natasha rubbed Clint's arm in understanding; it had been hard for both of them when Clint had been taken over by the scepter. It was one of the Black Widow's greatest fears—to have to fight a loved one on the battle field.

"Natasha's right." Bruce murmured. "We won't stand a chance if Fury is uninformed, and if the kid _is_ able to summon an army of _Blindrykkyu_, then we need to be prepared." The rest of the group nodded as Steve looked up.

"I'll go with you, Natasha, when you're ready to tell Fury. I can show him my sketches and point out the similarities Thor spoke of." For a moment, Natasha turned doubtful eyes on the sleep-deprived blonde captain, before they softened as she smiled gently.

"Sure Steve, we'll talk to him tomorrow at ten, sound good?" Steve nodded tiredly, his eyelids drooping even as Bruce lunged forward to save him from face-planting into his plate of food.

"You, my friend, need to go to bed." The scientist chided gently, as he hauled the muscular man to his feet. Steve mumbled something unintelligible as he threw one last glance at the feed of Undesirable's video.

_My little raven…._ And then he was being lead to his rooms, getting a scolding from his friend all the while. The group watched the two men leave, before they too dispersed. Natasha and Clint headed to their room, while Thor went upstairs to stargaze for a little while as he nursed his third beer. Bruce had gone to his lab after forcing Steve to bed, and Pepper was reading in her room. None of the Avengers noticed Undesirable's skin turning blue as the corner he was huddled in began to freeze once more, nor did they notice the flickering lights of the cell.

None of them noticed, but then again, how could they know blue skin was important?


	4. Chapter 4

_Summary: Harry was sentenced to die, forced to fall through the Veil just as his godfather had. He didn't care; he accepted it and looked forward to seeing his parents and godparents once more. But he didn't appear to have died as he should have; in fact, Harry would go so far as to say he had never felt as alive as he did now. Maybe it was the man with shield, or maybe it was the guy in the gold and red suit, Harry didn't know. All he knew was he was alive; for the first time in his life, Harry felt alive._

Warnings: Slash, extensive mentions of torture and death, triad relationships. If you do not know, slash is a relationship between two people of the same gender!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or Avengers, or The Marvel Universe.

**AN: Well, this chapter was an absolute blast to write. I got to write Steve and Harry's first interaction with them both conscious—sort of— I got to give insight on Fury's thoughts, oh and guess what, I got to write about Steve figuring out Harry's little secret! ;P**

**At the end of the chapter, Harry is feral so anything looking like this ****à **the little vampire—_what now?_—will soon be discovered **is Harry's conscious mind trying to figure out what is going on through the haze of feral instincts. **

**Thank you so much for all your support and I hope you enjoy the chapter—I know I loved writing it!**

**PS: This chapter is unbetaed, though a friend of mine read it while I was editing and writing, if that counts for anything. I'm pretty good at editing though, so I hope it's alright! **

**Anyway, enjoy!**

**THIS IS THE REVISED VERSION OF THIS CHAPTER AS OF 9/21/13!**

**DramaQueen50**

**_Damaged Goods: Chapter Four_**

Steve moaned as his curtains were opened, splashing sunlight into his sensitive eyes. Shouting, the blonde threw a pillow over his face in a futile attempt to fall asleep once more. He felt as though even a year-long hibernation wouldn't be enough sleep for him at the present moment. Groaning loudly, Steve glared at the ceiling as Jarvis' voice filled his room.

"Mr. Stark has ordered me to wake you sir. It is nine in the morning and you have to meet Ms. Romanoff on the Helicarrier at ten. Mr. Barton will be flying you there at 9:30 am." The AI reported, his voice polite and courteous as usual. Steve grumbled something unintelligible as he threw the down comforter off his legs and slid from his bed. Steve's room was rather simplistic compared to the rest of Stark Tower—as uncomfortable as he was around electronics, the aged man felt it best he had as few gadgets in his rooms as possible. There was a stained wood bed frame of an unembellished style, and though the blonde preferred his bed from 'before the ice' as he called it, this bed wasn't too bad.

The frame was close to the floor, and had two drawers at the foot of it that held the captain's shoes. The headboard had a slight curve that started out inwards, as though folding in to encompass the pillows on the mattress, before pushing out at the top near the wall. The resulting space at the top of the headboard ended in a scroll that rolled towards the cream colored walls. Steve had covered his bed in white sheets and a navy blue, down comforter. To the left of the headboard was a small, single drawer night stand of the same wood. Steve's phone rested on the nightstand, while a mirrored door on the right of the bed led to the bathroom. Across the room from Steve's bed was a simple chest of drawers that currently held his clothes. Atop the chest were several leather notebooks pressed together with bookstands—Steve's sketchbooks.

Stretching his long arms above his head, the captain yawned as he walked into his bathroom and flipped on the shower. The water warmed almost instantaneously, easily reaching a blistering heat—just the way he liked it. The blonde made quick work of his boxers, stripping down and groaning as he stepped into the steaming cascade of water. The tense muscles in his shoulders and back began to relax immediately, the knots loosening under the pounding droplets. Throwing his head back, Steve moaned loudly as he stretched his neck to either side, working each kink in his muscles with tender care.

When the blonde was satisfied with the state of his back, he reached behind himself and grabbed his lavender scented shampoo. He didn't know what it was, but something about lavender calmed Steve's nerves and never failed to leave him feeling peaceful—maybe that was why he always took extra showers when he was stressed. Lathering the shampoo in his pale hair, Steve's mind wandered to his plans for the day.

He would be seeing his little raven in person for the first time in—what was it?—eleven days. Steve's heartbeat raced at the very thought of the isolated young man. Shaking his head to rid himself of such thoughts, and sending water flying in the process, Steve rinsed the suds from his hair as he silently rehearsed a small speech for director Fury. The information Thor had provided for the team last night was crucial to the safety of the country. Personally, Steve didn't think Undesirable was here to take over Earth, but then again, Steve wasn't Fury—and he had a biased opinion of the mysterious captive. Fury was paranoid to no end, and would be thoroughly pissed off with all the Avengers if they withheld this vital detail from him.

Lathering himself in body wash, Steve glared at the tile wall as he contemplated his boss' reaction. The strict commander would likely be furious and barely able to control himself. The man would probably end up swearing, pacing, caressing his gun—Steve would be surprised if some shot glasses _weren't_ broken by the end of the meeting. As angry as he would appear, though, Fury's voice would be quiet, a deadly calm, as though there was a monster lurking beneath the serene surface of a lake. His voice would carry as he handed out strict instructions, demanding respect and acquiescence. Steve's mood plummeted at the very thought; whenever Fury got angry, he stayed in a foul mood for weeks, and usually took it out on his agents by scheduling more training sessions.

Grimacing as the water grew cooler; the muscular blonde turned the shower off and slid out of the cubicle, easily slipping a large, fluffy towel around his hips and a second around his shoulders. Padding out of the now steaming bathroom, Steve walked over to his drawers, vigorously toweling his hair as he did so.

"What time is it, Jarvis?" He called out, his voice slightly muffled by the monstrous towel.

"9:20 am, sir."

"Shit!" Steve cursed, pulling his drawers open haphazardly. Digging through the contents, the blonde whipped off his towel and threw on some boxers, quickly followed by a set of jeans. Grabbing a plain, white t-shirt, Steve drew some socks on. Throwing himself backwards, the blonde landed on his bed with practiced precision as he reached in the drawers at the foot of the frame to grab his boots. Sliding them on, Steve dashed out of the room as he pulled on his shirt and grabbed his leather jacket from the hook by his front door.

Jogging into the hall, Steve ran to elevator and pressed the button for the rooftop, sighing in relief as he reached for his cell phone and sketchbook. The captain's eyes widened as he felt an empty pocket. Groaning in irritation, he dropped his head against the pristine, metal wall of the elevator. This morning was already going wrong—what did that say about the rest of the day?

**xXx**

Natasha scowled as she watched Steve jog down the hall towards her pacing form.

"You're late." She growled, grabbing his wrist as she tugged him down the hall. Steve sighed as he ran a hand through his slightly damp hair.

"Sorry, I woke up late and forgot some stuff the first time I tried to go up to the roof. It had me running behind." Natasha sent the captain her best glare as she released her grip on his wrist and strode down the hall.

"Fine, just don't make it a habit." Steve grinned at her back, her words assuring the blonde he was forgiven. Easily keeping pace with the smaller assassin, Steve replied, "Of course not ma'am."

For a brief moment, Steve saw Natasha lips curve into a smile before the expression was quickly wiped off her face; they were here. Taking a deep breath, Natasha knocked of Fury's door with a tad bit of apprehension. As loyal as the Black Widow was to the strict director, even _she_ was sensible enough to fear his anger—especially if it was directed at her.

"It's open!" The gruff man shouted through the solid wooden door. Natasha glanced at Steve as she took one final breath and twisted the knob.

**xXx**

Nick Fury sighed loudly as he tapped his pen agitatedly upon the cherry wood of his desk. His single eye was staring out the window of his office with a lost look in its depths. The gruff man's thoughts were consumed by the latest development on the Helicarrier; Undesirable.

The day he had put the young man into isolation, had been the day Fury began to lose countless hours of sleep. As much as the stoic man didn't want to admit it, he was worried. The look in Steve's eyes when he had told the Avengers about the man's murders had been one of devastating clarity; Steve's spirit was absolutely crushed by Nick's news, and it only served to worry the director further.

Fury rubbed his eye patch out of habit as he frowned. Natasha had kept him updated on Steve's activities since he put the guy into isolation. From the information she had been able to provide, it appeared Steve had put himself into isolation as well. The captain had refused to take his meals with the team, and what meals the Avengers had thought to bring him, were often returned untouched or barely perused at best. The captain's actions were worrying, that was for sure, but there was nothing Fury could do. The lives of millions of people in the country were at stake should he let Undesirable go free. Anybody could see the teen was unstable at best—psychotic at worst—and needed to be kept under lock and key, especially with his 'abilities'.

One soldier's love didn't matter in the whole scheme of things, not if it put an entire country at risk; right? If that was the case, then why was Fury spending every free minute he had, worrying over the once budding relationship between his soldier and his captive? And what of the billionaire Tony Stark? Something was going on with him and Undesirable as well. Fury shuddered to think of having the prodigal Tony Stark angry with him.

A knock on his door startled the director out of his thoughts. Pulling himself together, the strict commander called out "It's open!" and waited for his unannounced guests to arrive.

**xXx**

All the tension in Steve's body drained almost instantaneously as he exited Director Fury's office, the air in his lungs releasing in a loud whoosh. Natasha watched him with crossed arms, one eyebrow raised as she tapped her foot. Steve shrugged unapologetically, he deserved a moment to catch his breath—after all, he had been the bearer of bad news for Nick Fury, and had managed to _survive _the encounter!

"That could have been worse." Steve finally announced as the duo made their way down the hall. Natasha snorted.

"Oh yeah, that meeting went spectacularly! If he wasn't suspicious of Undesirable before, he damn well is now! I swear he looked just about ready to rip my lips off for bringing him the news!" Natasha ranted her face a glowering mask as she led Steve to the right of the hall. "I mean, I can understand him having us escort Undesirable to the interrogation rooms, but really, I think putting an extra four guards on each shift was a little much! The guy had already had eight, and he hasn't done a single thing to threaten any of us in any way—well, apart from occasionally growling. He hasn't even acknowledged our presence, save to watch the guards deliver his meals—at least, when they had been delivering his meals. They had to stop about a week ago when Undesirable showed signs of becoming unstable again. A robot does it now." Natasha grumbled quietly as she stepped up to the metal door, placing her chin on the rest in front of the retina scanner.

Steve cocked his head to the side as he watched the assassin, his thoughts running a mile a minute. The Black Widow had a valid point, Fury had been pissed, but at least he hadn't chucked any shot glasses at the wall; poor Bruce had almost transformed the last time he had been forced to give their boss some bad news—the commander really needed to learn to control his temper.

After Natasha had explained her fears for the teen's health and safety, Steve had stepped in to show his boss the sketch he had made of Undesirable in a feral, threatened state. Fury had been suitably impressed by his captain's work, though Steve had been reprimanded for locking himself away in his rooms. The blonde had had the decency to be embarrassed by his dramatics, but really, what did Fury expect? The first person Steve had really opened up to since he was found in the ice had committed two gruesome murders upon waking from a coma, and then Steve had been ordered to kill said person on sight. That didn't help his irregular sleeping patterns, nor did it soothe his whirling emotions.

Frowning slightly, Steve continued to recount the events in Fury's office. After explaining the information Thor had given them last night, Fury had nearly had a fit. The man had begun pacing the length of his office as the two Avengers spoke, cursing furiously and rubbing his fingers over his gun in restraint. By the time Steve had finished explaining the similarities between Undesirable and the _Blindrykkyu_, Fury had been ready to blow someone to bits. With gritted teeth, the man had ordered Natasha and Steve to go to Undesirable immediately and escort him to the interrogation rooms, before they were to assign four extra guards to each watch. The two agents had left their boss' office in quite the hurry, waiting anxiously for the sound of shattering shot glasses that— thankfully—never came.

Steve's heart jumped as he rounded a corner with Natasha and the stairs to the solitary units came into view. Struggling to control his breathing, the muscular man followed his partner down the stairs, his ears straining to hear the sound of his lit—Undesirable's voice. Steve furiously berated himself for his little slip-up, and ordered his heart rate to calm.

_Dammit Steve, Undesirable is a murderer. Get. Over. Him._ Sighing, Steve looked up in surprise as he nearly ran into Natasha.

"Are we here al—oh." The captain inhaled sharply as he looked past the frozen assassin's shoulder towards Undesirable's glass cell. The slight teen was hunched over in the corner facing the door, his cot having been pushed towards the wall nearest his toilet. He was squatting with his back to the corner, his crimson eyes darting about as he snarled viciously at the one-way glass. Steve paled as he caught sight of the deadly fangs Undesirable displayed, the sharp points dripping poison down the teen's chin. Undesirable was still scrabbling at his throat with his claws, keening loudly with each scratch. Steve's heart jumped to his throat. His little raven, _his_ raven was in pain. Threading his fingers through his blonde locks, Steve nearly growled in frustration as he listened to the small teen give a ragged moan of pain.

_Oh god, if he doesn't stop, he'll die! He'll rip his throat to useless pieces! He'll strangle or choke—and—and—_

Steve was struggling to keep from hyperventilating as he thought about the very large possibility of his raven's death.

_No! Nonononononononono!_

And then he was moving, lurching forward with all the steadiness of a drunken man. Tugging on the steel handle with numb fingers, Steve jerked the large door open and slammed it behind him. Natasha's eyes widened in horror as she watched her partner and friend stumble into Undesirable's cell, completely unprepared for the teen's attack, and subsequently, his impending death. Undesirable leapt forward with all the finesse of a jungle cat, his claws extended and fangs bared; he was prepared to kill.

"Steve! No!"

**xXx**

Harry screamed as another flash of heat burned his throat. These heat flares had been plaguing him for days now, the agony steadily increasing as it honed in on the fast approaching peak of pain. At first, the young wizard had tried drinking water to stop the unbearable itch—despite the fact that he was wary of the food provided for him—but when that tactic had failed, he had been forced to investigate other alternatives. What had begun as the simple scratching of his throat had soon spiraled out of control as Harry found the burning itch unsatisfied by his fingernails. It was mere hours after he had first tried scratching, that Harry had found his hand wandering towards his throat more and more often.

Then he had begun bleeding.

The emerald eyed man _knew_ it was unhealthy for his throat to be bleeding as much as it was—usually something was considered unhealthy if it led to a fast death; like a gouged throat—but he couldn't bring himself to _care_. Only the burn mattered— the insatiable, unsatisfied, all-consuming _burn_. The unbearable pain had successfully distracted him from his quest to master wandless magic, and was playing games with his head. Reality and memories were blending together, giving Harry the idea that he trapped in a battle, only to find himself tangled in his blanket.

He had felt another flash of heat approaching, and was desperately trying to prepare himself for the inevitable bout of screaming that would follow, when he had smelt it. Harry nearly moaned as pleasure shot down his spine, his nose tingling with the new scent.

_Oh Merlin does that smell absolutely **divine**!_

Harry's eyes wildly searched his cell for the smell, his nose leading him towards the right direction. Tilting his head to the side, the wizard couldn't suppress a moan as he got a second, larger whiff of the ungodly scent.

It smelled like… it smelled like old leather, worn with use and showered with love. It smelled like a summer shower in a sweet, spring meadow. It smelled like a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea and old, carefully used parchment. It smelled like fresh lavender pulled from a garden that had been carefully, lovingly tended to. It smelled like home, and life, and _safety_. Now that was a novel thought for Harry. The wizard hadn't felt _safe_ since he had been forced into this cell. The safe warmth that had protected him in the mist had left him in reality. Being stranded in this new place had Harry's paranoia reaching new heights.

Harry shuddered as he inhaled deeply. He wanted that scent, dammit! He wanted—

The wizard froze as he heard his door slam open, and his ears perked as he whipped his head around. The steel door crashed shut, forcing a rush of air at the scared, injured young man. Harry stiffened as his eyes rolled back in his head. The scent was assaulting his senses—he could practically taste the smell on the back of his tongue as said muscle poked out to lick his pale lips. _He wanted that scent!_

His desire was the trigger he supposed. Harry launched forward, his silky, raven locks flying haphazardly about his face in wild disarray as he flew through the air. His crimson eyes glinted with an unidentifiable lust as he took in the sight before him.

A man stood there at about 6'2" with a pair of broad, muscular shoulders. He had sculpted biceps and absolutely delicious abs that were easily defined through his thin, white tee-shirt. His muscled thighs were clad in dark wash jeans, and on his feet were heavy duty, leather boots. His face was framed by thick, honey colored, blonde locks that reached just above his left temple. He had stormy blue eyes that were nearly electric with tension as the blonde man stared at Harry. For a moment, the teen had to wonder why the man looked so worried, before that thought was thrown away in favor of viewing the man's neck. And damn did this man have a neck!

Thick with muscle and full of the delicious life source known as blood, this godly man had a gorgeous neck. It sloped smoothly into his muscular shoulders, the skin seamlessly blending together in a never ending expanse of creamy, pale goodness. Harry could practically feel his pupils dilating as he landed on the large man. The blonde let out a loud grunt as he fell to the floor, his knees buckling under the speed and weight of Harry's attack.

Harry hissed as he grappled with the man's wrists, his magic going wild and offering its assistance in the way of extra muscle strength. Struggling furiously, the young wizard finally pinned the man's wrists between their stomachs with one clawed hand as he straddled the man's legs. Moaning loudly, Harry gripped the man's neck with his right hand as he trailed his nose along that absolutely majestic neck.

"Please…" The man moaned—_or maybe pleaded, now why would he be pleading?_—his neck held in Harry's tight, unforgiving grip. The wizard stiffened at the sound. It was the voice from the mist; the voice that saved him—well, _one_ of the voices. It was the first voice.

Well that certainly changed things, maybe he wouldn't drain this man then—_wait, drain him of what?_—since the man _had_ helped. Leaning closer, Harry practically plastered his lithe frame to the blonde as he opened his mouth and bit—_what?!_—down, injecting his venom into the man's jugular quickly and efficiently.

For a moment, Harry was confused as to why the man gave a pained moan, and then it made sense; he had injected the wrong venom. Sucking in slightly, Harry concentrated as he changed his venom, whimpering slightly when he heard the blonde give a pleasured moan. With his prey satisfied, Harry was finally able to feed his own desire.

The burn intensified in a white haze of heat before it was all gone in a wash of glacial ice as Harry drank deeply.

Blissful.

**xXx**

Steve gasped loudly as two sharp pains stabbed his jugular, the pain shooting down his spine. For one horrifying moment, the captain was certain he was going to die at the very hands of the man he had come to like, and even long for late at night, before that thought was gone, shoved away by pure pleasure emanating from his throat.

Steve moaned throatily as he threw his head back, following the insistent tugging on his hair. The creature in his lap whimpered—whether in pain or pleasure Steve was unsure—and released the captain's wrists as he wound both hands through the man's blonde locks. Immediately, Steve wrapped his large hand around the slim man; one at the male's waist, and the other at the guy's head, pushing the man's face into his neck. Somewhere in his mind, Steve knew how compromising the position they were in must have looked, but he really couldn't bring himself to care, not when his raven was making such delectable noises.

Sparks and flashes of pleasure were rocketing through Steve's system as he struggled to comprehend what exactly was going on—it was extremely difficult to do with a succulent mouth obscenely drawing blood from his throat. Of course, Steve would rather have—the captain's stormy eyes widened in dawning comprehension.

His little raven was drinking his blood. As in _drinking_ his _blood_. Sucking blood, like a vampire. His little raven was a _fucking vampire_!

Oh hell.


	5. Chapter 5

_Summary: Harry was sentenced to die, forced to fall through the Veil just as his godfather had. He didn't care; he accepted it and looked forward to seeing his parents and godparents once more. But he didn't appear to have died as he should have; in fact, Harry would go so far as to say he had never felt as alive as he did now. Maybe it was the man with shield, or maybe it was the guy in the gold and red suit, Harry didn't know. All he knew was he was alive; for the first time in his life, Harry felt alive._

Warnings: Slash, extensive mentions of torture and death, triad relationships. If you do not know, slash is a relationship between two people of the same gender!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or Avengers, or The Marvel Universe.

**AN: READ THIS PLEASE! I decided to update much earlier than I originally planned, simply because the Avengers SHIELD Agents pilot episode came out last night! YAY! Anyway, in case you haven't figured it out yet, this is the revised version of chapter five. Things are going to get way different from here on out I believe, so here's hoping you guys have fun with it. I'm stuck on chapter six right now, but I'm working on it, so it should be out soon. I've been distracted by another story I've been typing. I haven't yet decided if I'll post it or not, simply because it would span the entire Harry Potter book series and would need a huge commitment. I suppose I'll wait and see where this story goes first, then decide. Comments, questions or concerns are all welcome! **

**Oh and yes, I did take down the chapters that haven't yet been revised, for those who are wondering.**

**Enjoy! DramaQueen50**

**_Damaged Goods: Chapter Five_**

Steve was feeling slightly faint by the time he realized his little raven had stopped sucking. The young man was still on his lap, his head burrowed into the crook of the blonde's neck, but his lips had stilled. They were no longer firmly attached to Steve's thoroughly bruised and bleeding neck—though that didn't mean the man's warm tongue wasn't occasionally lapping at the droplets of blood beading on his wound. Steve ran a hand through the vampire's hair to get his attention, the blonde's blue eyes shimmering with tender worry.

"Hey, are you alright? Are you still—"Steve was cut off by a pitiful—and slightly arousing, though he would _never_ admit it—whimper, as the vampire nuzzled his neck. Steve's brow furrowed in confusion. If his raven was still hungry, err thirsty, why didn't he just drink?

"Hey, you can, you know…drink… if you want." Steve murmured, gently pushing the slight man's face further into his neck. The man whimpered again and shook his head as he tilted his face up to look at the captain. Steve's heart rate rocketed at the absolutely sinful picture the raven haired male made. The vampire's lips were parted, showing off delicate fangs that were gently shrinking to fit in his mouth. His lips were the crimson color of Steve's blood, and little droplets were slowly crawling down the vampire's pale chin. It almost looked as though Steve had claimed the man, marked his raven as _his_. The male's eyes were fading from crimson red like the blood he consumed, to a vibrant, jade green. There was a thin ring of red circling the guy's pupil, but his irises were otherwise back to normal. Steve groaned as his raven let out another whimper.

"Please…" He whispered as his eyes rolled up in his head. The creature went limp in Steve's arms, sending panic washing through the captain's system.

"Raven? Raven!"

**xXx**

Harry groaned as his mind cleared for the first time in days. The burn that had been plaguing him for hours on end had fled in the chilling wake of the ice that had flooded his throat. The wizard hummed as he slowly recounted the last ten days or so.

Despite his determination to discover his magical core, the pain from the intense burning in his throat had been far too distracting to allow for meditation. His refusal to eat any of the offered meals resulted in a lack of exercise, so Harry had simply laid about this last week or so. Sure he had played with his magic, forging a close bond with the semi-sentient element, but he had been unable to cast any wandless _spells_.

Sighing in frustration, the young vampire slowly raised his head, searching his cell with curiosity. His bed had been upturned and thrown on its side. It was pushed against the corner across from his loo, and the sheets were strewn about his floor in a nest of some sort. The curtain that had been covering the loo in an effort to give some semblance of privacy was thrown to the ground in tatters. Harry took in the destruction with wide eyes, unsure of how he was supposed to react.

_I didn't do that during the **burn** did I?_ Staring at the up-heaved mattress, the vampire slowly came to the conclusion that he _had_ in fact, caused all this destruction. The young man attempted to shrug his shoulders, but was stopped by warm bands of steel strapped to his midsection.

_Shit! How could I miss that?! Crap, back-up plan; **escape**!_

The rather muscular wizard immediately began to struggle twisting and turning as he contorted his body in near impossible maneuvers in an effort to escape. The bands—or arms more likely—stiffened, before slowly squeezing tighter about his thin chest. Harry hated to admit it, but he started to hyperventilate when the arms didn't release him.

_Oh Merlin! Salazar help me! Shit!_ Tears sprung in Harry's eyes without his permission as his emotions took a trip to the Gringott's bank carts. _Jeez, what is going on with me!?_ Loud sobs were wracking his body as Harry attempted feeble escapes.

"Please! Please don't hurt me! I don't know anything; I didn't want to hurt them! Please let me go, _please_!" He begged, desperate to escape. If anything, his pleas only made the bonds tighter. Harry cried out, twisting and turning in ways that were quiet painful. _Merlin's saggy left ball, get a hold of yourself Harry Potter!_

"Hey, hey it's alright! I'm not going to hurt you!" A deep, melodic voice penetrated Harry's panic with ease, the very sound calming him.

"You!" Harry gasped as he recognized the voice from the mist. Then it hit him, what he had done during the period in which his throat was burning. The wizard paled as he shoved the man away, the arms releasing him automatically as he scrambled back. "What have I done?!" The vampire cried, his hand coming to his open mouth in shock as he took in the bloody appearance of the blonde before him.

"Well, I'm pretty sure you—"The man was cut off by Harry's sharp gasp of surprise. The wizard had felt something wet on his chin, and when he had taken his thin hand away for further investigation, he had found the otherwise pale appendage covered in crimson blood—blood coming from his mouth, from his chin, blood that wasn't his own.

Harry frantically looked up at the other man and immediately noticed the bloody marks on the blonde's neck.

_Vampirevampirevampirevampirevampirevampire!_ The wizard's eyes rolled back into his head, and he crumpled to the floor._ You are such a baby Harry Potter._

**xXx**

Natasha's face was a mask of stone, her eyes hard as flint when Steve emerged from the glass cell. The thin form of Undesirable was cradled to his chest and the captain's eyes were flashing with barely repressed rage, blue flames leaping in their depths. Immediately the assassin had an automatic in each hand, trained on the unconscious form of the young man. Her lips were pursed into a thin line, as she stared at Steve in shock.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking, Steve?!" She hissed, her weapons still trained on the young man. Steve nearly growled at his partner.

"Did you not just watch that entire scene unfold?!" He growled quietly, his muscular arms hugging his little raven closer to his broad chest. "It's no wonder he wasn't eating; we weren't giving him the right food, dammit! Undesirable killed the nurses because it's in his diet, he probably lost control! He didn't kill _me_ just now!" Steve hissed, tilting his chin towards the sluggishly bleeding marks on his neck. Natasha paled and her stomach twisted painfully.

"He—he drank your blood?" Steve gave a curt nod as he strode forward, brushing past the stunned red head.

"Quite a bit, I think he was barely able to restrain himself." The blonde commented casually as the woman's arms fell limply to her sides, the guns resting against her thighs. It wasn't every day you learned that your captive murderer was a vampire.

"A vampire. He's a fucking vampire." Natasha's words were stunned, as if she couldn't believe it even with the evidence staring her in the face. Steve snorted.

"You can accept that Bruce changes into a giant piece of green, impenetrable muscle, but a change in one man's diet is too much? Tsk tsk." The blonde murmured as Natasha slowly trailed after the captain, following him up the stairs. She ran a shaky hand through her hair as she battled her instincts—the damn things were screaming at her to shoot the guy, but at the same time, the assassin knew such an act would have Steve flying into an uncontrollable rage.

"Where are you going? What are you going to do?" She asked after a minute or so, her words quiet and hesitant. It was as though the assassin was afraid to break the silence, which was true to an extent. Steve glowered at the floor as he walked, his words coming out gritted and restrained.

"I'm going to take him to the hospital ward, get him set up with a doctor, and make sure he's comfortable. I'll wait with him until he wakes up, and if he's still thirsty when he does, I'll be there for a meal." Natasha gave a slightly hysterical laugh as she tried to process the events of the day—it really didn't help that Steve had just called himself a _meal_ for a _very_ young man.

"You know, you're taking this awfully well." She remarked as they strode into the pristine, sterile hospital room. Steve gave a rueful grin in response.

"So are you, and besides, someone has to be calm when all of them start doing—" The blonde was cut off as two nurses caught sight of them and recognized the bloodied form in Steve's arms. Their shrieks bounced off the walls with irritating clarity as Steve sighed. "—that." He finished, scowling at the terrified nurses.

"Go deal with them, will you?" He ordered, waving a hand at the panic-stricken nurses as he gently lowered his little raven's pale form onto the white sheets of the hospital bed. He completely missed Natasha's soft smile, though he did hear her whisper "Sure," before stalking towards the now hysterical women.

Steve smiled gently as he brushed a stray lock of ebony hair out of his raven's face, before growling lowly at the sight of the vampire's shredded throat. The wounds were slowly oozing blood, as if they were trying to unsuccessfully heal themselves. Steve sighed as he stood up and went in search of some gauze, giving the creature's face one last stroke.

"Oh raven, what have you gotten yourself into?"

**xXx**

Harry found himself regained awareness slowly, in a gentle, unhurried manner. It was as though he was swimming up from the bottom of a deep well, gaining senses as he moved higher. Repressing the urge to sit up in a panic, the wizard controlled his breathing as he cautiously identified the scents around him. It was a rather difficult task as the air smelled sterile, as though someone had swabbed his surroundings with alcohol. _Well I suppose I'm indoors then._ Harry nearly shivered as a blast of cool air ran over his exposed arms. The sound of a door opening had the wizard freezing, his muscles tense with fear. _Right, what weapons do I have at hand? Do I know where I am? I'm sure as hell not in that blasted cell anymore…_ Harry's thoughts were taken off track by the low murmur of voices.

"What the hell is going on Steve? I left for three days; _three days!_ You couldn't have waited to rescue him until I returned?!" The voice was deep, and the sound of a low thrum filled the room. It was very similar to the noise Dudley's computer used to make, though not nearly as obnoxious. Harry's ears perked up as a familiar voice filled the room.

"Tony, you don't understand—"

"Damn right I don't! Explain it to me capsicle!" A low growl filled the room, and the young wizard was filled with the inexplicable urge to bare his neck.

_Don't do it Potter! Do. Not. Do. It._ A slight tremor ran through the ex-soldier's muscles as he forced them to relax. Neither man noticed.

"He was _dying_ Tony! Look, sit down. I don't want you to pass out once I tell you this." The sound of shuffling feet and the screech of metal on tile filled Harry's straining ears. Someone sighed. "He—fuck, I'll just say it. He's a vampire Tony. When we entered the cell Fury was keeping him in—actually, when _I_ barged in there—he bodily attacked me. Christ, he drank my blood!" The telltale sign of sharp inhalation bounced around the room as Harry's stomach curled with dread. He had the sinking suspicion these men—Steve and Tony—were speaking about him.

"Show me." A voice—Harry was pretty sure it belonged to Tony—demanded. He could tell the man had risen from his seat and was stalking towards his companion.

"Tony, you don't need to—"

"Just show me Steve!" Someone sighed, resignation coloring the innocent sound, before a zipper was slowly pulled down. Rustling cloth fell to the tile floor, and Tony—at least, the wizard believed it was Tony—gasped. "Shit! Have you gotten that cleaned at all?! Fuck!"

"Tony! I'm fine, really. It's no problem, just—"Bottles rustled and clinked as Harry's mind sluggishly chugged along.

_Tile floor, cool air, antiseptic and blood wafting on the air… a hospital! That's it; I'm in a hospital of some sort!_ Relief flooded the young man's mind as he slowly relaxed further into the comfortable sheets. His ears pricked as fluid slowly drained from something. Steve hissed in pain, making Harry's mind rage. _What the hell! Get control of yourself Harry!_ Forcing the irrational feelings aside, Harry listened to the two men.

"What was it like?" Tony whispered. Steve was silent, likely staring at something as he contemplated an answer. Harry held his breath, his body remembering the feelings of relief as his throat finally cooled; as the fire was mercifully quenched.

"It was—Jesus it was like an aphrodisiac. Tony, god he—there are no words." Steve murmured, the words travelling to Harry's ears with uncanny precision. The wizard's heart rate sped up as he slowly realized he had been hearing things that should have been impossible for him.

The burn, that wasn't normal. People shouldn't feel invisible fires in their throats. It had screwed him up somehow.

And the blood—Merlin! He had killed two people! _Murdered them!_ Harry's stomach clenched as he struggled to control the urge to vomit.

He had bit a third. Steve; the voice from the mist. He had bit that man. Drank his _blood_.

Ice settled in his Harry's stomach as his limbs began to grow cold. What was going on? Why couldn't he be normal?

"Hey!" A voice yelled from a distance. Harry felt his eyes blink, but couldn't bring himself to care that his cover was blown. The ice settling in his blood felt good; great even. It was far better than the fire that had _burned_ constantly, peeling at his flesh, eating his mind and licking at his soul.

Harry felt a whimper escape his lips at the thought.

People were yelling around him, and the chill around him was growing. The wizard sighed in contentment, as he stared at the white ceiling above him.

Cold was good. Cold was secure.

Cold was safe when nothing else was.

**xXx**

Fury gnashed his teeth together, ignoring the sparks of pain the constant grinding caused. He was rather frustrated at the moment, and his hands were itching to grasp a gun. He wanted to grip the deadly weapon and revel in the feel of it bucking in his hand as the trigger released. He wanted to go to the shooting range, but of course, he couldn't.

Not today. Today, director Fury was headed to the hospital bay, preparing himself to deal with his wayward captain and nosy billionaire. Today, Fury had to call an emergency meeting, as Undesirable had finally stabilized after being rushed to the hospital by one Steve Rogers.

The director grimaced as pictures of the young man's throat flashed across his mind. It would be a miracle if the guy ever spoke again. The murderer had managed to shred the flesh and muscle nearly to the bone, utterly decimating his vocal cords and coming dangerously close to crushing his windpipe. Fury shuddered; only a complete psychopath would injure himself like that.

And that was why Undesirable had to be contained.

Fury clenched his jaw as he strode down the hall, appearing for all intents and purposes, as though he was on a warpath. His stride practically screamed "I have a murdering psychopath to interrogate!" Slamming open the double doors to the bay, the director's nostrils flared as he caught sight of two members from the Avengers Team. Clenching his hands behind his back, the monocular man marched down the tile floor heading straight for the trio of men.

"Tell me, soldier," The director snarled at Steve as he stopped in front of the blonde. Bandages were covering a small area on the large man's neck, and his eyes showed his exhaustion. He likely had a struggle with Undesirable, seeing as the murderer was insane. "Tell me why you thought yourself authorized to free Undesirable from his containment?" Fury growled, his expression frozen in a mask of rage. The captain sighed as he ran a weary hand down his face.

"With all due respect sir, this young man was dying when I took him from his cell. He passed out in my arms as we were walking towards the hospital, and as you may have noticed, his throat is a mangled mess of flesh." Fury's good eye twitched. Steve's reasons may be valid, but he was putting an entire country full of millions of people at risk. Something had to be done.

"It wouldn't matter if he was taking his last goddamned breath in your arms soldier! Unless you received explicit authority from your commanding officer, you do not free dangerous captives!" Fury roared. Steve stood stock still, his sea blue eyes flashing. Slowly, ever so agonizingly slowly, the captain stood to face his commander.

"He was _dying_ in my arms as I took him to the hospital. As dangerous as he may be, he is still human, and he deserves his basic rights to life." Steve hissed. Tony was watching them closely from his position next to the young captive's head. The billionaire's hand was idly running through the man's silky, untamed locks. Fury's mouth was twisted into a feral snarl as he took a step closer to the captain. His hand was resting on his gun, prepared to draw the weapon at a moment's notice. A small noise caught everybody by surprise.

"Excuse me director, but may I have a word with you for a moment?" Turning, Fury glowered at the head of the hospital Dr. Patricia Keys. The man sighed as he stepped away from his subordinate, the tension in the room heavy as water-logged rain cloud.

"Of course Dr. Keys, what is it?" The young woman shifted about for a moment as she glanced at the thick set of paper stacked in her hands. For several moments, the brunette simply scanned her paperwork, her eyes flitting over the words at a rapid pace. Steve had turned his attention towards the head doctor, and his thick arms were crossed over his muscular chest. Finally, she looked up and walked towards the trio of agitated men. Holding out the folder and tapping two sheets, Dr. Keys handed it to her commander.

"This, director, is a DNA sample from our young charge." She began, waving a hand at the unconscious form on the hospital bed. "Today, there was an incident, during which he managed to cocoon himself in a block of ice. His skin turned the color of frostbite in a deep blue shade, and the ice was crawling around the room, covering the walls, windows, and starting towards the door. Being in this particular line of work, I took a blood sample to search for any discrepancies in his DNA. As this sheet here proves, there were." Dr. Keys flipped a few more sheets before landing on a sequence of DNA, obviously from Undesirable. All three men were staring at the young woman with rapt attention. Clearing her throat, the doctor continued.

"This young man is not completely human. His DNA has recently been mutated in two separate ways. I can tell it is a recent change, as the mutations appear to be at war with each other on a molecular level. Both mutations are dominant genes, and cannot survive with his human genes as well. Had this been a life-long condition that this man was born with, he would have died at infancy as his body would have been unable to handle the strain. As of right now, however, there is a chance he may survive, though if he does, he will not be human on any level." Steve and Tony had gone pale during the doctor's speech, their eyes drawn to the young man's peaceful face, while director Fury was staring at the man intensely.

"What do you believe will be the changes to his system? How different will he be from humans?" The man queried, his eyes roving the deceiving form of his captive. Dr. Keys bit her lip as she took the folder from her commander.

"Both mutations appear to be relatively humanoid when combined, though they are extremely different when separate. On a whole, I believe his outward appearance will change significantly, though he should still be able to talk and communicate. His memories and brain functions will still exist, though there may be new, unidentified portions added to his brain. His appetite could change to fit his new needs, and he could develop other abilities like extra bodily strength, heightened senses, or more speed and agility. Truly the possibilities are endless, and those that I've listed are the only the tip of an enormous iceberg." The doctor was staring at her unconscious patient in wonder; her eyes alight with excitement at the prospect of getting to study the development of a new species. Steve fell into his chair, his muscles giving out quite suddenly. Tony strode over the blonde, immediately searching his face for any signs of…well anything really. The billionaire sighed as he straightened up with his arms crossed.

"Right!" The genius announced as he gave his teammate a hard glare. "You need sleep, now." Hoisting the tall, muscular man to his feet, Tony helped him into the second bed in the room, ignoring the spluttering protests from the shocked blonde. "He will be here when you wake up, and you can worry over him later. Right now, _you_ need sleep." Tony murmured gently as he poked Steve in the chest for emphasis. Steve rolled his eyes before yawning as his head slowly sank into the hospital pillow. Neither man noticed the exit of the doctor and the silently plotting director.

**xXx**

A petite girl sighed as she glared at her pond. Tapping her long, lacquered nails against her thigh, the blonde slowly stood as she began to wander through the forest, her luscious hair swaying as she walked.

"Such a troublesome master, why must you make me work so? Always piling the hard stuff on me, before flitting away on your next adventure." Heaving another, rather dramatic sigh,the girl glided into the shadowed depths of the forest, falling into the welcoming shadows with a happy sigh.

"I suppose it is up to me to come rescue you, my master. I am coming, master, I am coming."


	6. Chapter 6

_Summary: Harry was sentenced to die, forced to fall through the Veil just as his godfather had. He didn't care; he accepted it and looked forward to seeing his parents and godparents once more. But he didn't appear to have died as he should have; in fact, Harry would go so far as to say he had never felt as alive as he did now. Maybe it was the man with shield, or maybe it was the guy in the gold and red suit, Harry didn't know. All he knew was he was alive; for the first time in his life, Harry felt alive._

Warnings: Slash, extensive mentions of torture and death, triad relationships. If you do not know, slash is a relationship between two people of the same gender!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or Avengers, or The Marvel Universe.

**AN: The author's note will be at the end of the chapter if you wish to read it!**

_**Damaged Goods: Chapter Six**_

Harry moaned softly as he blinked his eyes open only to slam them shut immediately. _Note to self; light hurts._ Slowly fluttering his lashes as he squinted into the painfully bright light, Harry took stock of his surroundings.

The walls were an eggshell white, or possibly beige; he couldn't quite tell what with the large blooming spots dotting his vision. Grunting slightly, Harry pushed himself up onto his forearms, blinking as he marveled at his restored strength. _What the hell happened?_ Running a hand over his face, the soldier's instincts began to kick in. As he searched the room, his mind automatically categorized objects as weapons, useless, or valuable.

_The lamp on the bedside table could be a weapon, though it would likely shatter within a few solid smacks—use it as a last resort. The metal stand there could be good for stabbing, though my physical strength as of this moment is unknown._ Harry bit his lip as he took in the four basic walls around him. There was no means of escape save for the door. _And the bloody door is fucking useless, seeing as how I have no idea how many enemies could be lurking outside._ Harry took a deep, calming breath, his spine tingling nervously as scents flooded his nose. Bleach, chemicals, morphine, medications, four women all of a younger age. They were coming closer, with a man who smelled of gun smoke.

Harry's breathing grew erratic as his eyes darted about the room, searching for a way to run, to hide, _anything_! _I just want to be safe, somewhere familiar! Godric help me! Please!_

Harry gasped as his magic swirled, coalescing around him in a swirl of shadows. _What the bloody fuck?!_ The young wizard had no other chance of further contemplating the phenomenon, as the door opened when the shadows began caressing his skin. Harry damn near moaned as the feeling of complete contentment filled his being. He hadn't felt so safe in _so_ _long_.

A throat cleared and Harry flinched slightly, his muscles seemingly unable to complete a full jump as his eyes fluttered open.

Two men had entered his room, one of a shorter stature, and another with one working eye. The wizard nearly snorted as an utterly inappropriate image of Moody flashed across his mind's eye. "Constant vigilance." He muttered almost as though he was blessing the Auror's memory while he watched the women he had smelled file in behind the men.

"Pardon me?" The shorter man asked, leaning forward slightly from his position at the end of Harry's bed. The wizard's eyes shot up to the man's face, examining him in detail as he filed each nuance away for further investigation. The man either had a very odd haircut, or his hairline was receding with age. Crow's feet crinkled the corners of his eyes, and laugh lines surrounded his lips. Stress lines carved paths into the man's forehead, and he had smooth, shaven skin. His eyes were warm and inviting, though the smallest hint of a threat lingered in their grey depths. The threat was further backed by Harry's discovery of the man's weapons.

_Two automatic handguns are strapped to his chest, and another is at the small of his back…if the bulges in his jacket are anything to go buy. There is the obvious automatic strapped to his right thigh, so I assume his right hand is dominant. I'm sure he can shoot with both though. Hmmmmm, and three daggers as well; one on each ankle and another on his left wrist. Interesting, he expects a fight…._

_Turning his gaze on the woman standing at the door, Harry raised a brow as he realized that she too, believed there would be a fight. This woman was wearing a skin tight suit in navy blue. It covered up to the middle of her neck, and a patch upon her right shoulder depicted a geometrical eagle of sorts. It was obviously a sign for some sort of organization, which was further backed by the same patch on the red-headed woman's arm. Both ladies were carrying holstered automatics on their thighs. The brunette had an ear piece of some sort in her right ear, and her hair was pulled back in a bun nearly as strict as Minnie's used to be. Harry sighed as he stared at the two agents, his thoughts taking the darker paths as he remembered the lives of fallen soldiers. Harry was snapped from his thoughts by a rather harsh voice coming from an imposing figure in the center of the small hospital room._

"Are you quite finished scrutinizing my agents?" Harry smirked at he stared at the monocular man. The guy was obviously in a position of power, judging by the way he held himself and his possessive tone when conversing about _his_ agents. He cut a rather formidable figure when compared to the agents in the room, possessing only one eye and all. Several spidery scars wove a web from underneath the man's leather eye patch, marring his skin with their inky color. The commander was of African descent with a stern mustache framing his mouth as it covered his chin and the top of his pursed lips. Harry felt one of his eyebrows raise as he discerned no less than eleven weapons on the man. His thick leather jacket was a great distraction from the slight bulges the hidden items made.

"Nope!" The wizard popped his lips on the 'p' of the word as he turned his attention towards the two women who had taken up residence towards the corner of his room to the right of the door. There was a small sink nestled in that niche and both women were resting against the counter. They were dressed in white lab coats, indicting their statuses as healers of some sort. Harry's sharp eyes read their name tags, identifying the older brunette as Dr. Patricia Keys and the younger girl with dirty blonde hair to be Anna Stewards. The younger woman was decidedly nervous in Harry's presence if her shifting was anything to go by. It only took a moment for the vampire to discern why.

"You're a nurse." He stated rather bluntly, internally wincing at his lack of tact. _Smooth Potter, **real** smooth._ The woman—Anna—stiffened immediately, as did every other person in the room. Harry sighed as he raised an eyebrow. "Really folks, I didn't mean any harm! It's not like I'm gonna eat her!" Fury actually growled at that and Harry really did wince as he held up his hands palms forward.

"Right! Sorry, sorry! I just smelt the others on her. You were roomies weren't you? You and the other girl, P-Pa-Perezz right?" Anna had paled, the blood positively draining from her cheeks as her eyes lit up with a hidden fire. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt, I really didn't. It just happened—an accident." Harry whispered as the blonde pursed her lips.

He could smell the rage on her. He knew it was coming.

"An _accident_?! A fucking accident?! Yeah, well that _accident_ was my best friend! That ACCIDENT was a girl, a person with a life and hopes and dreams! She wanted to visit China, and see the Taj Mahal! She wanted to have a little girl of her own to pamper and praise! That _accident _was—was my **_everything_**!" The girl screamed at him as Harry's own face drained of what little blood he had. The shadows around him were fluttering with his emotions, trying to comfort him to no avail. With each word the blonde was advancing until she was poking him in the chest as tears streamed down her cheeks. With her final word her hand came up and struck him across the cheek. Harry's face whipped to the side from the momentum, but he barely felt a sting.

"_Stewards!"_ The commanding officer roared, advancing as though to reprimand the distraught woman. Harry's hand shot out to grip her wrist as he called "Stop!" Everybody froze.

"It's alright. I knew it was coming and I deserved it. It's not every day you confront the murderer of a loved one." The wizard murmured, staring at the far wall of his room with vacant eyes. Releasing the nurse he turned towards the director, giving the monocular man his full attention. "Right," He sighed as he sat up, propping himself against several pillows. The shadows moved with him, shrouding his skin in an ebony cloak as he did so. "I assume you want to interrogate me, yes? Ask me a question, and I will respond with the usual 'I don't know,' 'no,' or if I'm really pissed, 'fuck off.'" The apparent director's brow twitched and his jaw clenched as Harry's smile grew wider.

Severus _had_always called him an imp…The thought of the dour man drew Harry's smile away as he frowned and looked to the side, staring at nothing in particular. Two chairs drew up to the end of the bed he was resting in, and the wizard's frown grew larger.

_Fuck it all, they_**_are_**_going to interrogate me!_

"I am Agent Coulson," the smaller man of the two began as he leaned forward, his hands resting in his lap. For one moment, Harry felt as though he could have been looking at younger version of Dumbledore, and then the illusion was gone as Harry caught a glint from the knife on his wrist. "these are agents Hill and Romanoff," he stated, gesturing towards the women at the door respectively. "This is Dr. Keys and her assistant Nurse Stewards, and finally, this is my boss, Director Fury." Harry raised a brow.

"I know, it's obvious." Both men startled slightly before Fury turned his eye on the soldier.

"How do you know about SHIELD?" He practically spat the question at the young man, though Harry was unperturbed as he simply raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't know about 'SHIELD' until you told me, I simply figured you were in an organization of some kind. As for your titles, well, it was obvious in the way you two walked and talked." Fury glowered at the soldier while Agent Coulson's shoulders relaxed. Harry wasn't fooled for a moment; he knew the man was _very_dangerous. The two women at the door were still tense, and Harry could hear the faint buzz of conversation from the ear piece in the brunette agent's ear, though he was trying to block it and focus on the supposed interrogation the director had planned for him.

It was rather difficult as the wizard's attention span had seemed to drop to the span of a gnat's.

"Mr…." Coulson trailed off as he looked at Harry expectantly. The wizard stared at the ceiling as he pondered the question, absently stroking one of the many shadows littering his skin. A small smile graced his lips as he turned his gaze back upon the agent.

"I suppose you could call me Raven." The answer was not what the two men had been expecting, apparently, as it rendered Coulson silent with shock and the director tense with agitation and surprise. Harry's eyes narrowed as he tried to discern what had surprised the men so, though he was more focused on the small smile that had graced the red-headed agent's lips. _They couldn't possibly know what Raven stands for...could they? It was my code name during the war, which should be concluding now that Voldemort is gone for good... If they do know, then they're a private party that works for the Death Eaters, which automatically puts them on my hit list..._

Harry sighed as the shadows fluttered once more, obviously detecting his depressed mood.

He hated having a hit list. He hated being a murderer.

The wizard was pulled from his pitiful thoughts as Coulson cleared his throat. "Well _Raven_, SHIELD stands for Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. SHIELD is a secret government organization that specializes in eliminating threats to the country that are too large for the military to handle. We also help contain people with..._abilities_that may be potential threats to the country."

"What do you mean by contain?" Harry whispered dangerously, his emerald green eyes practically glowing as his magic began to fluctuate. The shadows around him were fluttering anxiously and the temperature of the room dropped by several degrees. Agent Hill began muttering into her earpiece, but Harry was too distracted by Coulson to care for what she was saying. The man was sweating and shifting in his seat under the pressure of Harry's magic. It was as though he was struggling to keep from saying something.

"Tell. Me." Harry ordered in a deadly, dangerous voice.

"If the person refuses to allow themselves to be tracked and observed from afar, or refuses to join SHIELD as an agent, they are eliminated by any means possible as they are considered rogue and dangerous." Harry stiffened as more of his magic leaked into the room. Agent Romanoff's hand was twitching towards her gun and the medical personnel were shifting nervously, though Dr. Keys appeared to be taking avid notes on the whole scene.

"So you get rid of the freaks in the world, is that it? Just wipe them off the face of the Earth?" The young wizard sneered in disgust, his emotions in turmoil as thoughts of his relatives and sacrifices for the 'greater good' flitted about his mind. "I can't believe you! That's disgusting, horrific even, and I won't abide by it! I refuse to be a part of organizations that kills or breaks people simply because they are different! I will _not_, help you, I will not _join_you, and I most certainly will not allow you to _use_ me!I don't care what world this is, I don't care what planet this is, nor do I care what country I'm in; if you try to do anything to me, I will _**slaughter**_ you all and disappear!" Harry's whole body was a quivering mass of unsteady emotions, adrenaline, and tension. He couldn't get control of himself.

He was drowning in a sea of fear, confusion and rage, and his magic was reacting with great levels in fluctuation. It had become a constant heavy, oppressive weight in the small hospital room. Agent Hill's muttering was growing louder and more frantic, and Harry's ears perked up as he caught some of her words.

"Prepare the containment cell…..growing violent….stand by with sedation units….may attack…prepare back up…." Harry's lips pulled back in a snarl as he whipped his head around to stare at the suddenly still agent.

"You want to _contain_ me? Sedate me? Keep me like an **_animal_**?!" Harry let out a roar of fury as he pushed himself into a defensive crouch on the hospital bed, giving in to the frantic emotions whirling within him. His magic flooded the room in a tidal wave and the shadows were positively dancing around his skin with sadistic glee. Ice was crawling up the metal of the bed Harry rested upon and everybody's breaths were coming out in puffs of condensed air. The various people in the room were groaning under the pressure of Harry's rage, but the vampire couldn't find it in himself to care.

They had wanted to** cage** him as if he was a filthy _animal_! How DARE they?! So wrapped up in his fury was he, that Harry didn't notice Fury advancing on him until there was a cocked gun placed against his temple.

"Whatever...you're doing...stop it. NOW! Before...I put a...bullet through... your _head_." The monocular man hissed as he drew out his gun. Harry's fear spiked irrationally and his breathing grew erratic as he struggled to discern a safe course of action. On the one hand, the wizard had no wish to hurt innocents, nor any other people for that matter, but on the other hand, this organization had been prepared to kill him if he was a threat.

Harry was growing dizzy as his breathing came in shorter bursts and the temperature dropped further. The soldier let out a low moan as black spots blossomed before his eyes, and then the world exploded.

**xXx**

Steve Rogers absolutely adored cooking, but he was rarely able to partake in this hobby due to his erratic schedule as one of the heroes of New York. Having woken this morning at the godforsaken hour of 10:30 in the morning, the blonde had been escorted to Avengers Tower by a perpetually snarky billionaire.

Somehow, the captain had been unable to bring himself to scold Tony for his muttered comments about the various agents on the Helicarrier.

The blonde had found himself smiling at them instead.

Frowning slightly as he thought about Tony, Steve expertly flipped the final pancake he was baking onto a plate and placed it on the granite countertop of the sleek bar in the kitchen. The soft pat of footsteps alerted the captain to Tony's arrival, and as he turned to greet the billionaire, Steve's words died on his lips.

Tony had just come from the shower and was toweling his hair dry as water droplets dripped down his bare chest. _Shit!_ Steve licked his lips as he forced his eyes away from the genius' attractive form.

No! It was not attractive, because Tony was a guy, and males weren't supposed to like males. _Right?_ Steve frowned as he remembered Bruce mentioning something about "gay marriage finally being recognized."

_Am I gay?_ Steve scowled as he shook his head. He was not having this internal debate before he had even sat down to breakfast. Ignoring the inexplicable urge to create a large, obnoxious bruise on Tony's neck, Steve cleared his throat and murmured out some semblance of a greeting to his friend. Tony merely grunted in response and threw himself onto one of the stools as he dug into Steve's delectable pancakes.

Steve tried to tell himself he didn't love hearing the man's moans and groans of delight.

He really did.

Truly.

But it seemed he was fighting a losing battle before he even began.

Halfheartedly eating his own plate, Steve was too distracted by his thoughts to notice something was off until it hit him with the force of a bullet train. Grunting, the blonde doubled over as a high pitched wail filled his ears, sending shocks through his body and tingles down his skin.

Something was wrong; very, _very_ wrong. Gripping the edge of the countertop, Steve's muscles clenched sporadically as he grit his teeth to keep from crying out. When the phenomenon passed, the captain relaxed, releasing his breath in a great whoosh as he sucked in lungful's of air. Sweat was glistening on his forehead and his ears were ringing with ghostly echoes of the wail.

"Steve!" Tony gasped as he clutched his chest, an expression of utter terror on his pale face. "What happ—AH!" The billionaire gave a cry of pain just as another episode attacked Steve's body, this one stronger than the last.

_"Alpha! AlphaAlphaAlphaAlpha! Help! Danger! Dangerdangerdangerdanger!"_ Steve's teeth clamped down on his lip, nearly biting right through the flesh as fear flooded his system.

Then it stopped, and Steve sat up. It was as though someone had flipped a switch within the recesses of his mind. Suddenly, Steve found he had absolutely no care for social norms and rules. He didn't care that he probably shouldn't barge in on his boss' interrogation, nor did he care that Tony was only half dressed, or that the food would grow cold.

All that mattered was his little, terrified, submissive mate.

**xXx**

Thor panted as he continued his battle against Bruce, throwing Mjӧlnir towards Hulk's head as the god leapt to the side. The two men had been working together the past few months as Bruce tried to develop a connection to the beast within himself, and Thor…. Well Thor simply inflicted the smallest injures on Hulk.

The green mass of muscle screamed in rage before freezing as Bruce obviously tried to communicate with the animalistic mindset.

"You are dropping your guard Bruce! Never leave your flesh without shield!" Summoning his trusted weapon, Thor leapt into the air in preparation to pound an earthquake between his teammate's feet. His plans, however, were derailed by a wave of magic he never thought he'd feel again. Thor paled as he thudded into the floor, barely managing to keep his footing as he stumbled.

"Impossible! That can't be right!" Mjӧlnir fell to the floor with an ominous ring as Thor mechanically turned to face the door.

"No! Nonononono!" It couldn't be _that_ magic! It was impossible!

"But the cell…" Thor's pale face grew impossibly paler as he grabbed his hammer and sprinted for the door.

"Thunder god?" Hulk rumbled in confusion. Thor spared a moment to turn to his friend, running backwards as he called "The hospital Bruce! We need to get to the new guy _now_!"

And with those parting words Thor disappeared around the corner.

**xXx**

Harry wasn't quite sure he knew what had happened, but he was safe for now. At least, he hoped he was. After the explosion of magic, every shadow in the hospital room had swarmed on him and condensed to form a sphere of impenetrable darkness.

Dimly, Harry recognized the sound of a gun exploding as the bullet left its chamber, but he couldn't bring himself to care as irrational fear flooded his system.

_C'mon Potter! You've been in **much** worse situations! You're a wizard for Merlin's sake! Get it together before you turn into a bloody pansy!_ Harry paused for a moment as he pondered why his thoughts always seemed to have Draco's attitude, before another wave of fear rolled through him. Curling into a tight ball, Harry let the tears escape his eyes as he began sobbing. Something was building in his throat and Harry simply let it out. The wail would make its way out with his consent or not.

"Alpha!" He whimpered, his lips trembling as demons seemed to crawl from the recesses of the sphere surrounding him. Harry's breathing was growing erratic again as his eyes flicked from one terrifying creature to the next. They were swarming him, scrambling to get at his flesh, to consume his soul. Letting out his loudest, most desperate wail yet, Harry blindly scrabbled at the imaginary creatures, desperate to escape their clawed grip. "Please!" He cried, begging for the safety of his mates and the knowledge that _they _would protect _him_.

Harry could hear the echoes of shouting from outside his sphere, the sounds ricocheting off the barrier as fast as they sped towards him. Tears streamed from the soldier's eyes as he heard two different girls shouting and more gunshots. Letting out a terrified cry, Harry covered his eyes as hallucinations of his past victims flooded his sphere.

_Lucius Malfoy. Antonin Dolohov. The Carrow siblings. Thorfinn Rowle. Innocent children lost in an out of control spell. George Weasley; a mercy killing._ Their empty, soulless eyes glared at him as the rotting corpses crawled towards Harry's balled form, wailing and moaning of the horrors they experience in Hell. Harry gave a terrified scream—one which was rather high pitched and girlish much to his dismay—as comforting arms wrapped around his waist and turned his face into a muscular chest. The comforting hum of electricity combined with the sound of his mate's rumbling slowly calmed Harry's breathing as he sobbed against the man.

His mate was rubbing soothing circles against his lower spine, gently massaging the dimples at the small of his back with nimble fingers. Harry whimpered as he clenched his fingers against the man's skin, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought his demons off with determination.

When the hallucinations finally disappeared, Harry sagged in relief and buried his nose in his mate's neck inhaling deep lungful's of the man's scent. Listening to the sounds outside his sphere, Harry absently traced a finger over the metal imbedded in his mate's chest. A threatening growl filled the room, immediately followed by angry voices. Harry flinched as he forced himself to follow the conversation.

_"Why….attacking….safe…..won't hurt anybody!"_ A deep voice growled. The sound sent shivers down Harry's spine and he let loose an unintentional whine. It was his Alpha.

"Hush little kitten. Alpha's trying to keep you safe, just relax." Harry moaned as hot lips pressed against his neck, momentarily distracting him from the situation at hand.

_"Director…out of our hands…need to calm down….see what…can do…."_ This voice was feminine and seemed strained, as though the tension in the room was more than she wanted to deal with at the moment. Harry believed it to be the red head.

_"If I may….not human….instincts…..affecting them….nature…take its course….observe…."_ Harry stiffened at the word 'observe.'

_Cage! Animal! Locked up! No! Cagecagecagecagecagecagecage!_ A loud whine escaped his throat again as more fear flooded his system—_fuck I'm being a wuss today! It's like I'm a greeny on the battlefield all over again!_—sending shivers down his spine.

His beta began to rock, the gentle motions soothing Harry as he whimpered, his fingers clenching and unclenching.

"Oh kitten…"His mate whispered as Harry's whimpers grew louder. The man sighed and let out a series of growls. Almost immediately, another set followed. Harry relaxed instantly as he let out a keening wail, quieter in pitch though just as demanding. Something entered the bubble of shadows, and then hot, muscular arms were encircling Harry, dragging him onto a firm lap. A nose nuzzled his neck and Harry immediately tilted it to the side, baring his skin for his Alpha. The man growled in approval and immediately set to work creating a glaringly obvious mark on his jugular.

It quickly turned Harry into a whimpering mess of wizard shaped goo.

Another set of lips attacked the opposing side of his neck and Harry's magic began to fluctuate once more. The shadows that had formed his impenetrable barrier collapsed and shrouded the trio in inky darkness as the temperature of Harry's skin dropped exponentially. The contrast between the ice of his skin and the heat of his mates' lips had the wizard's mind spinning hazily as bright bursts of colorful magic exploded around him.

His happy bubble of safety and arousal was abruptly shattered as the door the hospital room slammed open. Harry's Alpha—whom he was beginning to think was Steve if the scent was correct—immediately stiffened while his Beta continued to run hands through his hair in an attempt to keep him calm.

Of course, he was Harry Potter, so nothing was _ever_ that easy.

**xXx**

Thor's eyes were wide with shock as he stared at the huddle of shadows upon the hospital bed. To the untrained eye, it appeared to be just that; an impossible phenomenon wherein all the shadows of a room collected in one area, but to Thor, it was much more.

The god could see his teammates Steve and Tony as they cuddled the unknown newcomer between them. Tony was gently running his fingers through the slender man's hair while Steve stared right at Thor, daring him to do _anything_.

Steve was obviously the Alpha in the trio.

Thor had been prepared to back down, to act as though he had seen nothing, when he felt it again.

The magic.

The god's eyes widened as he stared at the unknown man pressed between his friends. The man's skin was turning a shade of frostbitten blue and his fangs were beginning to appear as the stress of the situation forced him to go feral. Thor didn't care about the man's controversial features, however—okay, maybe they were a _bit_ important—no he cared about the magic that was positively _pouring_ from the young man.

Magic like Loki's.

"Impossible." The blonde breathed as he stepped forward. Apparently that was the wrong move because Steve was pushing the newcomer into Tony's lap and leaping towards him in the next second.

"Odin help me…."

**xXx**

Harry cried out as he felt his Alpha leave the shadows. He knew Steve needed to protect them, but he didn't _want_ him to. He wanted his Alpha _here_, with him, where they were safe! Letting out a choked sound of anger, Harry hissed as he felt rage wash over him.

Why couldn't they _leave him alone?!_ He wanted his mates, _just_ his mates! Was that so hard to give?!

Another scent joined the myriad that filled the room and Harry struggled to categorize them all whilst focusing on his Alpha through the shadowy gauze.

Steve was fighting the man who had challenged him, the man who had tried to defy him.

The god.

Harry's stomach clenched as he smelled the immortality upon the man's skin. It was as though he would be perpetually young, always in the prime of his years. Harry didn't want to lose Steve, he would _not_ lose the man.

If they played dirty, then he would too. Didn't a god against a mortal constitute as foul play?

Harry had no time to further ponder such a thought, as he heard the click of two separate weapons, and apparently, so did his Beta.

The men were in motion before the agents even knew what had happened.

**xXx**

Phil was having an absolutely horrible day, the worst day at work by _far_.

The interrogation of Raven had been going smoothly enough until he was forced to bring up SHIELD's rather unorthodox methods. Everything had gone downhill from there.

Raven had unleashed some sort of _gift_ of his and an immense pressure had built in the hospital room, growing stronger and more volatile until the director was forced to threaten the young man with his life. Apparently that had been a bad move as it only resulted in an explosion that rendered everyone stunned for several minutes. Events had only escalated from there.

"Move!" Phil yelled as he pulled the young nurse out of the way of Thor's flying body. The two men were going at it and it seemed there would be no end to their battle. Anna gave Phil a shaky smile as she and Dr. Keys swiftly flipped over a small table near the sink. Barricading themselves behind the tiny thing, Phil ordered the two women to stay there while he tried to help Fury gain control of the situation.

Of course, the moving shadows and freezing temperatures weren't helping him in his case at all.

"Director!" Natasha yelled as she tried to present her point. "We need to let them work it out! This is _obviously_ not something that we understand yet, so let Steve do what he feels he has to do! Look at him! He's acting like a feral beast! The man is obviously affecting him and there is nothing we can do!"

"Director, back up is five minutes away, they're preparing the containment cell now." Maria interjected, ignoring Natasha's growl of frustration.

"If you try to lock him up, he'll flip and somebody will end up with a _lethal_ wound." She warned as she turned to stand in front of the terrified nurse and doctor. "I'll have no part of your _idiocy_." Fury's eyes were hard as he glared at the furious red-head. Before the situation could escalate further, Phil placed a hand on his friend's bicep.

"Nick….perhaps Natasha is right. We are out of our depth and cannot begin to fathom what may be going on here. Let them work this out and we can discuss what happened at a later date." Fury pursed his lips as he side-stepped a flying piece of glass from the shattered window.

"Director, the containment unit is ready." Agent Hill murmured. Phil sighed as Fury's eyes hardened. His case was lost and he could only hope they made it out of this situation alive.

"Tell back-up to prepare for the package."

**xXx**

It was only his ability to exercise extreme self-control that kept Harry from making a very bad decision.

Cold blooded murder counted as a bad decision right?

As soon as the guns had been cocked, all reason had flown out a rather large hole where the window had been mere moments ago. Harry had leapt from his shadows with claws extending, heading straight for the very man who had caused this problem; the director.

The monocular man was in fact, preparing to fire off a round when Harry had grasped his wrist and snapped it clean in half. The director had paled drastically, though he made no sound of pain as he dropped his weapon. Blood was leaking from the wound and it was taking every miniscule molecule of Harry's self-control to keep from attacking the director and sucking him dry.

He would prefer Steve or Tony's blood anyway.

Pinching a nerve in the director's left arm, Harry watched with no small amount of satisfaction as the limb went limp, the director's nerves temporarily paralyzed. Using the man's right shoulder as a launch pad, Harry vaulted over Fury as landed behind him, kicking the backs of the man's knees as he dropped to the floor. With a pained grunt, Fury fell to his knees as Harry pulled on the ice in the room.

He wanted a weapon, a deadly one.

A dagger formed in his hand, the hilt shaped to the contours of his palm near perfectly. Running his thumb along the blade, Harry instinctively called on the shadows, coating the edges of the dagger in shadow magic.

Deadly magic.

Chuckling softly, Harry forced Fury to lift his chin as he wrapped his arm around the man's neck. Pressing the blade ever so gently to his skin, Harry let out a wave of magic.

Everybody stilled as they turned to look at him.

"Now I have your attention, kindly drop your weapons and listen to me."

**xXx**

**AN: Well, I hope this was an exciting chapter! I'm glad you guys are enjoying the revisions, as I am quite satisfied with the way it has turned out! If you didn't notice, there will definitely be a triad relationship and it will have Alpha, Beta, Sub instincts. Basically Steve is there to protect Harry and so is Tony, and Harry is the bottom in the bedroom. If I decide to do m-preg (which I'm seriously considering!) Harry will bear the children as well. **

**So Harry is very different in the revision from the first version of him. Loki will probably be introduced earlier in this version, and as you can see, Tony is definitely getting in on the action faster. The creature aspects that Harry will learn about are very different in this version as well, though I won't go into any detail. It's a surprise you see… :P **

**I know Harry seems really fearful and terrified, but basically this interrogation was a catalyst that his instincts played on. His mind manipulated his fears and nightmares and his submissive instincts forced him to call for his dominants rather than deal with them himself. It's the next step in the trio's relationship really.**

**Anyway, I apologize for the wait on this chapter; I've been getting used to new classes at school, preparing for the PSATs, and scheduling many a surgery so my life's been crazy. I'm going to try to get chapter seven up soon, and I do all the editing on this so any mistakes in grammar, punctuation, spelling and such are mine!**

**DramaQueen50**

**P.S. This is chapter is over 6,000 words!OMG that's my longest chapter EVER! It makes me so happy that I feel like I sound like the stereotypical teenager everybody thinks I should be!**


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